what to do
there is nothing interesting to add, very little to subtract
if cold coffee could burn my tongue
and the slushy sugar heal it
where else should the mind sit but in the future?
but it does not. it is left to
dream of what should and
what should not, to be acutely
aware of drives and distractions
toward nothing? who will know of anything
that has happened, that will happen,
but me? and that the coffee really did burn
comfortably in my stomach
fys 
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