2 AM
for no good reason, other than the reasons
which keep me up, when everyone else
is sleeping.
Words I otherwise would have said
stick, on my tongue. Peanut butter
words, the kind with the nuts on the inside,
the kind you have to stir when the oil
separates.
I sometimes feel separate, too.
I would put a question here, a hypothetical
something to suggest a theme.
A motif. A common thread.
I am a well-punctuated sentence
without parenthetical asides.
The sticky things
stay stuck.
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