A wet hair in the winter kind of thing,
wanting to leave, wanting to leave, watching the leaves.
Stacks of books, irritable cats, unopened bills,
postcards I can't throw away, trash I can't get rid of.
Maybe I will stay and laugh in the greeting card aisle for a while,
maybe buy heating pads during the other parts of the month besides that time.
A crying for no reason kind of thing because reasons,
like dads, say things like "I know why" and they do.
And then, you know, so do you.
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