inside disregarded shack
full of and
haunted by
long-ago written poems
dust is falling
through angled light columns
to threadbare rug
and faded painted plywood

from outside
i imagine i am
with clear mind
hot tea,
focused and working
and not
with dogs
and jobs
and kids
and houses
and money
in mind

inside the poem home
i am a new man

i call the dogs
from down the beach
and go inside


Reach out and touch someone....

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