at the meeting
i slurp my coffee
and click my pen.

i turn her hair colors
and spin wildflowers
from the carpet.

take hardwood and
turn it to clay that
i sculpt into a sweater.

it’s cold and it’s heavy,
my gift to the boss.

so when i fold this paper
into an elevator
he stays here stuck to the ground…

and we go up up and away.

-h

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