You would think (I would admire)
the fume-free solitude had fashioned doors
to open recklessly (I would testify)
to overtones shoved under glass.

I would surmise your solo act
(begging for chords)
would simplify the nest around the melody
(cloned from scratch).

And not a modicum of winter (past).
You would think (I have entired you)
that only habitat turns home
(you would resuscitate)

I am going to become (again)
The being in a tire swing (singing homonyms)
Devoid of craft and aspiration
Constancy, humility, and reciprocity.


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