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waterskiing on the lake of fire

Staring is my favorite hobby.

Young Asian women fade into sunlight glaring through windows of the bus.

I stare until everything empties. I stare into emptiness until it is filled.

Young Asian women are dressed in the prettiest shadows of the subway station. I would follow them onto their trains, but I am stuck to my shadow. My shadow is stuck to emptiness. I stare into the floor patterns and imagine the life I might have lived.

I put my shadow on the wrong train. The doors close. I run away.

Please don't tell me what the evening will do to me.

I don't know why moths tap my windowpane. The light I offer is false. For I, too, am the shadow of something that ran away.

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