at the milk carton
on the table,
turning it around to the picture
of the kid
that's been missing
for years.
it's me.
i've been gone since
nineteen-sixty three.
maybe i should call
someone
and tell them that i'm here,
i'm okay.
i'm sitting at this table,
eating bacon
and scrambled eggs,
coffee
and toast with
a swipe of marmalade.
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