air
surprises you as you step
outside
the door, down
the steps
in your
boxer shorts
to retrieve the paper
at the end
of the driveway.
the daily
news,
already
six hours old.
a thin
baton
thrown from a passing
car.
but you like the paper,
the feel
of it in
your hands
as you drink your first
cup of joe.
the ink smudge,
the bold headline,
the minutiae
inside
telling you again what
you already know.
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