Monday is not a song wavering along snow drifts / Monday is not organs filtering seeded claptrap frosted with nuclear green salutations / Monday is not a lost glove ballooning with wasps settling into a new home / Monday is not the years finally being counted on a dinner plate / Monday is not the weeping birch bowing before winter waiting for the first cracks / Monday is all days tapping out the one moment that also held Adam’s skirt
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