She’s saying something about a show
on HGTV; someone has traded spaces
or simply invaded another’s. But my mind
is still in the desert. With gunfire.
Explosions. Plumes of dust.
Her lips move up and down,
voice muffled as if coming
from a closed coffin. If only
life were as simple as
a remodeling show. She could
spackle, splash color, bend
the world to her design,
while I accept whatever
changes greet my return.
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