& natalie portman runs up to a bush, crouches down
& pulls out a binder marked ‘suicide letters’
along w/a tray of freshly baked peanut butter cookies
& we sit at the table straddling the center white line
& slowly read the letters & eat the sweet, warm cookies
& never once look up to see if a car is coming
& when i awake my mother’s ashes
are right there on the table
but i feel briefly & strangely consoled…
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