In Order

When kittens yawn, do cyclists cross the street?

In my mind, the answer is unknowingly strong

And thereabouts lies the proverbial fruit of his eye

He left strangers to move on but

They never left him, so now he is cursed in a nutshell and

Longing for a peaceful life, somehow, to make due like

The carpet on the hotel floor where he sleeps, dies, and lives in turn

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