even my dreams are mundane
predictable to the point of boredom
I replay the day’s troubles without
pretense of any control or correction
I struggle with multiple lost forms
languishing past due with a dire
need to be stapled then signed
twice by someone unavailable yet
visible one cubicle over to tell me
she has no answers to questions
I have not dared to ask nor
even imagined I could before
it becomes too late to try and
I wake to begin all over again
(June 16, 2014)
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