the memory of our voices is inside it.

Never cared much for travel, 

maybe it’s something about flying over oceans without having wings/

maybe it’s the mimicry

maybe it’s because that’s how I came here 

and now that I’m here, all I can think of is how

I haven’t acquired a degree 

only a tomb/

maybe it’s that my father will be 84 in 5 days and

in less than 24 hours he will be injected with what I call a serum

that will kill the cancerous DNA living in his bones/

what are bodies, and what are planes and what is gravity and what are all of the dead bodies buried, rotting underground?

death puts you in debt/

death puts you to bed/

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