I was going to write a poem
about how a tow truck ran over my phone yesterday
and you would have raged on my behalf
about how a desk
can drain a human being
of compassion
but then the sun came up
like red paint
seeping into the watery sky
and our friends had a baby boy
and another friend’s grandmother died
all of this as the sun
hoisted herself back on top of the trees
to watch us unfold
pinned between birth and death
scavenging for joy.
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