Brushing My Teeth in the Mirror I Consider My Own Autopsy Report

Nearing the exit to the business district. Gas/food next right. You take notice of a feeling of unfamiliarity. No matter how familiar you are with her, her sharp angled lines, her cold mirror exterior, she always keeps you at arms-length. Wisps of tailpipe smoke. the noiseless chatter of thought. hustling. crosswalk signals. sinuous static of traffic through your window. morning glare and shadow. glare and shadow. Briefly you think of home


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