Sometimes I wonder what it means when streetlights flicker out
just before I drive beneath them
When I see the imprint of a bird's foot in the mud
and it is so intensely familiar that I wonder if I didn't
just dream I were an animal.
Sometimes I wonder why, some days,
I think I know every face I encounter, and some days
I recognize no one at all.
Who am I, that I like cumin and cinnamon,
coriander, lemon peel, fresh thyme,
And why does my heart wobble, just a little bit,
some days, for no reason at all?
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