They’d never hurt us,
though they wear their faces
like ill-fitting pajamas.
Out on the ice, nothing matters
like back home. It’s just
the putty has a way
of shaping itself, that’s all.
Are we not miscreants?
And are we not entitled
to a modicum of clarity?
All things considered, the house
was put to order, creepily,
but no complaints were lodged.
The two hours I’d never get back
moved giddily into a different
verb tense. Someone shouted “Fire!”
and the mood shifted
from green to yellow.

-r. miller

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