I have time for freehand explorations

into the cleft between visual semblance

and emotional close-enough reality,

the canyon filled with a roaring stream

of consciousness, I have no time not

to doodle, no time not to pluck pretty

little things out of the summer rain

highway haze and arrange them on

the kitchen table when I get home,

you ask how I have time and that

is my answer, I have time because

I once had my heart broken by

a polysyllable, I have time

because you do not.

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