Same Feeling, But Mine
Maurice Oliver

Falling rocks are a hitchhiker’s hazard.

Birds repeat what they’re good at
until the grand tour looks like this:

Paintings that give no clue of the landscape.
Soldiers in uniform. Small bones in a cat
puddle. Gravel-pitted knees. A dog’s bark
that divides the property line. Two mirages
shaped like a rearview mirror. Puke & sweat.
Hospital bedpans. Areas around light switches
that always look dirty. A sky that flexes like
a muscle. Lake water that cracks any ordinary
glass. Foreign coins that feel alien to the
pocket. A red tree that’s really a stained urn.
A May that rewrites every third day. Now, you’re
getting warmer. Later can come in two moments
or as a flowering shrub that goes feral. This
all happens as the force field pulls us, leaving
any other God-eaten space sparse of experiences.

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