in that stillness moment i, questioning why people stare through (and stare within, staring through) that fuzz or mush like their covered window panes (staring within, staring through) that shy window pane that turns
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so that i (staring in, staring at) may roam in
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turning my mind to that fuzz and static, becoming fogged window pane to look out (and stare) like rain droplets caressing so rough they fall to pound that pavement pavement so coarse and electric like the peppered mountain range where i stand my shoes fill like leaking boats to roam, to wander, in that desolate diorite range (staring within) questioning (staring through) as time joining disappearing as headache turns everybody to everything turns