The parasite


it’s the first deep 
glug glug glug 
tshhh water on the fire
it plans its day

a supermarket visit at a respectable time

because you’re not one of them

it knows to be shadowed

in a cold parked car or

taking out the bins

tin skeletons in the corners of rooms

ears on the stairs

clanking bin bodies

it’s the lingering stench in a kids memory

a treacherous lip

the sadness of needing more of an 

unimaginative it

I’m stooping in the aisle again


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