I count the birds at my feeder,
watch them arrive only to disappear,
they are a happenstance,
they flicker in and out, die and return.
People overhear other lives,
I imagine where they go and why?
The flush of a toilet brings visuals
as if every wall
were an opaque plasma screen.
People have died in the close,
dead neighbors,
three, four, six times removed.
The living...
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