hi, you,
the change-wind is at
our thighs and necks again
knocked down window-cat's house
in the small closed-off alley between the building's sections,
a humid patch of detritus:
old cat food and bird seed and bird shit,
trickling with tiny insect industry;
it seems i have formed a crude ecosystem
in this narrow column of space
i am tired to imploding but
i am growing things and stroking animals and
my life can be full of beauty and contentment
&: why shouldn't it be
it comes on like a sneeze
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