Flow

I *think* poems in the car On the toilet seat At the opening of my sleep Because I don’t really know why For some reason these places conduct (produce) flow

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Nothing

The joy of Being able to hold hands for the longest time with someone you love Even as it seems still like borrowed time And you know [on Monday] you’ll part To freeze time I would   What I would Do   What I would do To turn back time To do it all over …