good thing it's not life, memories intact
we move on, carrying a bit less.
Probably for the best, we move a little
lighter, a rat in a trap that smelled has
now moved on to his greater rewards.
Life smells sweeter in that case,
the basement cleansed in mud, we
will sleep tonight, our ears open to
the sound of rain, ready to leap from
bed, alert, watchful, hopeful.
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