you
hates that might be loves
the netted texture of a fly screen
google street view rewound to 2013
a soft purple-tinged forgiving morning
an idling truck engine filtered through a wall
being scratched on the head or the upper back
the way chocolate cracks off of an ice cream bar
being silly for someone to whom silliness registers
the autumn smell of something burning in the distance
living spaces that feel like holdovers from past decades
the dry-air feeling of getting home from a very long walk
the irreplaceable mental timbre of a given dream or memory
pinching a very smooth fabric like satin to rub it against itself
the smell of a blacktop parking lot on a sufficiently hot day (hesitantly)
peacefully forgetting the future & the past for at least a couple of minutes
a stream of water lazily crawling along near-level concrete like a strange gelatinous snake