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the rumble of machines comes up from the trees
a lawn mower, a helicopter, a mail truck
a bike or custom car climbing the nearby hill

the sun is coming down through the leaves
and the screen onto my feet
a car drives past and the lawn needs to be cut
and my thoughts need to be organized
perhaps index cards and deep blue string
text documents laid out starwise
rapid eye movement, scanning, gamma waves

the sun is coming down through the leaves
where last week a squirrel was drinking
the morning's rainwater, carelessly reaching
for each wet cluster, a car drives past
a young man looking in the mirror at himself
seeing his future from someone else's eyes
rehearsing

the sun is going down behind the neighbor's house
through the leaves and the screen onto my hands
holding a cool empty bowl still sugar fragrant
something my intestines will not appreciate
but my brain will, provided we use it right now
i try to remember my high school biology teacher
excited about the metabolism of sugar

we are larger on the inside than the outside
only slightly less blind than a seed falling from the canopy
like the not-yet-famous physicist before a breakthrough
just thinking about the same problems as everyone else
like your morning cup of coffee
on the day you are mugged.

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