8:40 on January 12th

It’s 8:40 on January 12th

and you seem busy

ignoring my song

there is comfort in silence

or silence in comfort

the TV talks, the radio blares

our feet are cold and without socks

there aren’t any cigarettes left in my pocket

but I have quit, haven’t I?

One more for the road, I say

there is always more road, she says

but she doesn’t understand

that my poise is my pretense

underneath the crustacean shell

beyond the strong will

there is a man, supine and fetal

looking for a quilt.

The weakest of us do really

need the strongest armors.

 

 

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