It’s time

The light changes things
Three weeks is a long time

The rock changes
No connection to history
It’s just the wind
The midpoint
A scab on a knuckle
Word of the day

The rock changes
So unfimiliar with real love
It doesn’t move or try.

Maybe I am the first to notice
An astronaut of rocks
I see the dents, soften

They are like I was
I am like them.

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