My ears are stuffed with vibrating
air attacking from all sides of this room,
but the only sounds are reliable
clocks, empty school buses, afternoon birds.
He's sliding away from me like heavy
snow cascading down mountains. He's flowing
away from me like rain down a sewer.
He's hidden now - a treasure ship among
more treasure ships that continue to sink.
What are the numbers to call? Here's printed
pages of useful information pinned
to a cork board next to unopened mail.
I clear unwanted salt off the table
and place this crisp official letter down.
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