I do something else--this is my style--
and, as I do something else, I worry
about what I should be doing;
I am habitually late--I bet
you know people like me--
we carry the weight of the world
on our shoulders as we apply
mascara in the rearview mirror
and drink coffee on the way,
and some day, this
disjointedness will kill us.
A double rainbow
crashes over the mountain
like a runaway train
rushing the station at dusk.
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