r “Writer’s Block”)
es and warm cinnamon smell into sentence
s and hidden worth, tossed over a
ing to a thick layer of cake frosting
peration
ry your face in the soft embrace of the one
you.
iliarity in your face
my best to discard, tossed into the alleyway
te butts and flattened bits of cardboard
lying there atop the cracked asphalt and
ssing cars crunching past the gravel
senger’s seat next to me a few blocks later,
from my cheek
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