I live my life in jars that hold
Exactly 16 ounces each.
I fill them every morning and
Drain them by the same time every
Single night.
I clean them carefully, twenty
And one scrubbing each,
And as I do I try to clean you
Too because
While cleaning, I can't help but wait
For a call, a knock, a note;
"Relaxing" in bed after, I try
Not to get sweaty again
In the one-stream
Weak-plastic breeze of my
Two-cent-store fan
As I try to breath
The one-thousand
Unweak-surges of my
Two-fold panic down into the jars
Knowing that
You will not come today.
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