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Or why Superman doesn’t visit anymore

the cat silences with a scritch under the chin, the basement is organized in bins the weed garden mocks my back the inbox smugly holds its stacks each moment a jump from clockface slash to slash wife lays in the afterglow, flies buzz two and fro, night stages house creaking, shingle colors leaking, dishes sit sloppily in the sink, the ticking drives me to tears
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Written by
casey
58 / M / Irish
Published
Aug 11, 2018
Lines·Words
12·65
Tags
#aging
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