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weeds

I had a dream I lost 100 pounds
as a single whisker grew from my chin a yard long
I was to cultivate this hair and worry over it until it suited my new devastation

In my dream my wife discovered lawn care
supplanting  my need for order with her own and not looking at me as often now
Too soon my fantastic whisker felt this treble of change and the thrill was gone from it altogether

In my dream I was relegated to a small corner of the yard
ensconced in stone and forever to be tinkered with by birds and bugs and crayon-fisted fungi
in a dream of digested music of all this world’s gears and gnashings while my whisker grew and steadily unraveled my place in it

This and other changes assemble in the low shade of the late afternoon,
where crane flies do somersaults upon the dimming hour
like weeds cut loose from all earthly obligation