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I can never remember, or realize, why I find myself in situations such as these; watching people in buildings where I  shouldn’t spend so much of my time.

 People whose hair matches their skin matches their eyes that matches their clothes,

With freckles and one just a little bigger than the others underneath their eye, and cursive tattoos of flowers on the shoulder, just visiting.

One chef comes through the scene collecting ingredients for tonight’s dinner – first time meeting the new parents.

My past is asleep

Time moves oddly, and slowly….

And suddenly.

Glasses go by biting into jelly-filled donut, large.

I hardly find justification for my beliefs or self-assurance, or what in particular it is that I take offense to —

So how can I feel anyone else is justified in their own narrow-mindedness and habitual tendencies?

Life is bought with Bleach ad things are fine.

They slide the Nickel-ads off the stack, dozing off before reaching he door befuddled by drunk from last night, the night before.

My Papa doesn’t recognize me today. I share his name, they used to all me his boy.

Old ladies grab condolence cards and hurry away, they can’t steal, an kids crowd the doorway in an unbroken stream.

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