always been looking,
for someone
to dry the dishes i leave
washed beside the sink.
to wash the dishes
and understand
that i would pick up
that other half,
my better half,
always been looking,
for someone
who understands how
scissors and needle nose
pliars
so subtley work together,
and feel so right
in both our hands.
and we both must fold
because we have
the same hands.
how two things
so different
could go together.
to work in both
the basement
and the kitchen
with me.
a different sort of march,
neither blustery wind
or endless reign:
left, right,
right, left.
(without the slam
of a heartless door
suprised to find itself
in control of a heart.)
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