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I always knew this was
where the instructions
were written;
it always felt
like a fever
when an illness was finally
lifting;
it’s just that
I was never sure
what the exact words were
whenever I looked up
to the sky reading
mist and vapor;
there was no
dictionary,
no brake to step on
or way to slow down
their subtle movements,
not that speed or
the lack thereof
would do anything
to change things—
not that in an entire lifetime
there was a single action
I could take
to overcome the odds
against me
in this continuing struggle,
and improve my ability to
comprehend clouds.
—
Copyright 2022 Jose Padua
.
Photograph by Jose Padua
Ah, sigh.
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Yes, Jose makes writing poetry look easy.
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Indeed!
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