poetry

map nausea ramble

I get nauseated
when I look at maps
the connective tissue
the collective we

the weight of it
all the bodies
represented by this?
co-occurring narratives,
sickos tethered, interstate by interstate
like olives
sardined hip to hip
on a thousand-foot shish kabob.

are we flattened beyond repair?

ambiguous nostalgia is
worse
than a hangover

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