and maybe you won't still be on it,
only five-dollar bills, telescopes, anonymity,
waiting, beauty, silent comedy,
the silent comedy of beauty—
of waiting. Could I forswear
all these things and just crawl back
into the bed you and I once slept in?
What would happen then?
Play any film backward and it's elegy.
Play it fast-forward and it's a gas.
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