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A Day in the Life of Nothing

Impatient mother scowls sourly at her children
and scolds her husband, silent and seemingly dull,
with wide soft eyes, for being a lazy ass.

Their youngest daughter of four, bobbing
her giant head with an amber green stare,
smiles shyly at me in a shopping cart full
of children, doughnuts, and diet Pepsi.

It's 8:49 AM.

Sleeping in a parking lot after another
pulsating never ending night of nodding
off for fifteen-dollars an hour, a woman
clearly Tlingit, clearly drunk, and clearly
lonely, asks over and over again "Aren't you
coming with me?" There's no response.

It's 1:37 PM.

Steady clicking, pecking irregular bird,
chattering confounding words, for future
comas to come, eyes dry, brain heavy sack
of fluid and distress, "documentation's
for the birds," I say.

It's 4:49 PM

A day has passed and I am ready for a beer.

It's 5:54 PM

Cheers.

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