too many cups of good, strong coffee, and i was happier than necessary about the shape of these grey skies and these beautiful wilting trees.
i like words like careless and wistful and soft. stumbling and fumbling and mournful. giddy, easy, familiar. transience. somnambulance. osculation.
my cut-up hands - my twice-zested thumb, index finger caught in the chain on my bike. other thumb slit open on the plastic packaging of a bar of mango-scented soap. other cuts from nowhere that startle me when they sting unexpectedly. black lines of grease in the folds of my palms. callouses from bikes and knives and espresso machines.
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