
trepidation's better
brother; my old,
uncomfortable,
blue-wool
sweater:
raspy caresses,
peculiarly warm;
bareness's tremor—
deceivingly banal
more daunting than ever;
still, i slip
you on;
less dread than fear—
seam, stich
and choker,
altogether;
how soon you rear
given all the time
gone.
tell me once more,
year over year,
how are you
still—
pal?
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