conversation that i wish we could
have while i’m at work earning money
for no reason. a one way conversation.

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table 42 needs more bread & i’m welling
up because of the way yr commitment
to me doesn’t stop, just like:
an audible vibration. but really,
it does the opposite of the audible
vibration because: you don’t disintegrate
into a, or the, skyline; unloudening as you
get smaller. table 42 is rude & will leave
me a 10% tip. & you don’t fade away
from the shape of my ears, nor the part inside
that makes the sound: sound. instead, you enter
above the lobes & make me change my language
my languages. but, it would be ok, if you did
follow the same laws of science that sound
does, because: i’ve memorized the measurement
of yr shadow, the best shape.
table 42 is sending back their entrees
my mouth is already full of spit.
& i don’t mind, i’m committed to following
around yr shadow for the remaining decades
that’s what shoe stores & sweat shops are for.
i once read that someone wrote that living
as a droplet of yr underarm sweat would do just fine.
fine by me. these heels were made to wear to bone
& i don’t mind, that’s fine by me, by you
the bottoms of my feet will do just fine
fine playing the role of ‘my feet’
but really: living to be yr shadow’s namesake.
i just burnt table 42’s money with a candle.