He already laid out words for her–

several times,

careful as a typesetter.

The words lie directionless–left

to right, of course–but

without any journey set.

To think, oh, to think those cubes of

metal oriented thoughts so well

but ended in a tray at day’s end,

all the same.

Another path of words vines

within fitted stones, another

set towards a place of home,

and all along I … L … o and

so on, continued till all words

are gone

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