On Returns

it’s easy being alone,
but there’s nothing so sweet as a fierce hug upon returning
i mean, old shoes have nothing on that
listen to that exuberance, store it deep, and remember

so much time is spent shuttling around these spacesuits
I mean, our bodies
and the Here just gets all entangled with the Now
(except inside our brains, wherein Here gets all warped up in +Now and -Now, and Now gets warped by +-xyzHere)

all those seconds keep tocking by, breaths in and out, that thump-stutter-thump
it all feels like so much, and then so little, and then so little
water rushing, then getting dammed up by some debris, flotsam, or whatever

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