you find
the old photo
album under
the bed where
the tumble weed
dust rolls
against
the hardwood
floor. coyote
would be right
at home under there.
you really
need to get a
maid at some
point, or move.
but you
find an album and
wipe the dust
off. it's
filled with
the photos, when
you were married,
when you had
hair, when you
were young and
stupid as opposed
to now, older
and more stupid.
it seems longer
than ten
or twelve, or
fifteen years since
they were taken.
your son in a batman
costume, your ex
wife with that
constant frown,
so much distance
between then and
now. uncountable
and surprising miles.
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