Sangiovese, five dollar bottle from Trader Joe's -
maybe six dollars.
I ride trains all day, reading catty comments from Morrissey,
turning back corners of pages,
catty comments of particular note.
My mom had a hysterectomy yesterday,
texted me she is doing well,
is sore.
Snow fell this morning
Nothing stuck.
It's been a long time since I have been touched,
have submitted to someone's hands,
felt some connection outside this skin,
this head.
I hold my jacket tight against the cold wind,
head home to blankets that I will cuddle with,
will try to,
the cold stronger than the various blankets
assembled on my bed
nestlike.
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