August 12

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The sky uneasy after thunder
last night, having gone

to bed angry, and the maple
leaves barely waver  

in the barely breeze.
I dreamed of someone

I barely knew, but family–
having never really had

a chance to talk, I threw
him a party, made him

a cake, still, the end
was fixed in place.

These leaves are summer-fat,
big as diner plates, obscuring

the view.  An outburst of rain
would be a relief about now.  

Dreaming, I argued about lines
on a map, locations of cities, 

quickest ways to get a place,
still, I woke before I got there, 

my slice still uneaten,
and going sticky in the heat.  


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