Snowflake, AZ

White shirt
inevitable dust smudge
dropped in a pail of baking soda
world’s original skin
bubbling to the surface

You turn pages for a man
peering through his window
hands never touch
he never once smells the pages
but your breath is inevitable
your exhale mess
morning breath plant food
circles round walls
no corner to settle in
smudging off wallpaper
bite by bite

Why does my skin crinkle when I move?
creaky mattress
stained sheets
I can iron the letter every night
but it will never go back
to the way she sent it

Shirt is buttoned
tinfoil wall reflection
distorting the storyboard
we hold soap behind our backs
because this time will be different
when we walk outside
we won’t leave a single footprint

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