13. Odd Intervals

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a sudden pang, I wore karma like clothes, I mistook your smile for a smile

regrets can burn a hollow man, like dead trees on May, shrivelled up
in here, nothing to plumb

now, only as passing you can offer a greeting, my shoes were unlaced
so I only heard you

half-talking; or so I convince myself.
Who am I to indulge in the prospect of second comings,

even Revelation hasn't revealed itself yet; or so we think,
do we treat yesterdays as guests

nowadays, no we don't, but we sing odes to it but only in passing, in late afternoons

when the road is gleaming hot only haze can exist, can't it,
the oxymoron of karma itself:

wear it like clothes that you can't see,
only when people say 'nice clothes'
because they have nothing else

to say at odd intervals. Didn't I mistook your smile for a truer smile?
Though I deserved that gut punch,

I did. A sudden pang.

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