What if instead of a body with legs and arms
a mind a middle a penetrible vee you were
a wish or memory or not-here or gone-thing
not missed, not remembered, no solid state
amorphous as breath expanding beyond the lips
on a cold day, frozen trinket, sparkle in the eye
not even a wistfully twisted hair represented you
unseen, unheard, unimportant, unbouyed by the cacaphony
of paler yous shouting with inborn distinction, me too.
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