i thumbed your copy of
THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER - and other stories
and questioned if you'd read it,
really just questioning
if you would let me read you,
questioning
about you
and were you the mysterious stranger in question
or was it i -
tiptoeing around your room
thumbing the bindings of your books
using mark twain's words
using your strange fingers inside me
using your toothpaste
and reading so, so much quieter
than I usually do -
the mystery in question being
the everything
and feeling stranger
in every moment.
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