November sun

I waited in line

to buy a frying pan

two notebooks

four journals

and organic chips.

I go places but get distracted

with all the things I don’t need.

You would think all the women

behind me

were having their nineteeth

nervous breakdown. No, this

is how the world looks at eleven

o’clock in the morning at Homesense.

The unhappy line

although I was pretty focused

for five minutes. I did what I

had to do. It feels as if a

Parallel Universe, yes the Mandela

effect, is here. Global warming

is at hand. Trump is President

and everything is possible

in A-M-E-r-i-ca

even reality hosts

can rule the world.

My worries are meaningless

my anxiety slapped me again

on highway thirteen.

Apple store is a drug that lures

you in and eats your soul.

Yet this November sun

has a way of warming me up

like the thought of you does.

You are in my poem now

you are in my phone,

even when I close it

you still exist.

I learned to detach again

to not give everything I got

in sixty seconds. I will sit

back and stop reflecting.

I promise to enjoy the

rays you

send my way.

I promise to be honest.

I try to understand

why years later

you still want me.

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