Assuming
custodial absentmindedness as the presumption of now, there emerges this yet
unnamed desire which has been here many times before. It knows all the light
switch locations, each creek along the floor and the stairs that lead to the
pillow folds under my head at sleep's greeting door. It has a presence larger
than the scope of my view. I am somehow in cahouts with it though yet not named
and it has nothing in particular to do. It is kind of an invitational haunting
but still out of frame. It is a desire, slow to come forward but deep in
refrain.
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