a while back.
a colander full of popcorn.
a blue light in my corner of the house.
a dying man more cheerful than I am.
a sofa or a bed, never both full.
everyone wants to be alone.
no distractions, only work to do.
forgotten hot dogs in the crisper - better put them back.
memories of phantom pizza from the last time we were happy - I've reheated these leftovers over and over - the plate burns my fingertips - maybe I won't have an identity - maybe I can start over - maybe i can do it right next time, how I was supposed to do it right this time, the last time, and the time before that.
the refrigerator door seals my fate.
plants of the same seed grow farther apart, reaching for their own sun in the sky.