even if i never write them down
remember when i tried so hard
he shifts away from the campfire smoke
(as if) i admit
cream like ashes, cream like oatmeal
static like TV, like a stone
which to his snow-bank white in-motion
righteous clear-eyed idealism seems—
as he settles in his new seat,
campfire smoke following suit, (as if) i
say nothing whatsoever
but remember when i tried at all
1/31/24
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