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What will happen when we become you. Is it the end of mustard on pastrami when it hides from you behind the mayonnaise? Will the mate to your black sock continue to ride the shelf in the dryer. Will you wear your flannel shirt beyond donation and never change the sheets again. Will you talk to yourself as you do now when you’re both the questioner and the respondent. Will you survive on toast and peanut butter. I want you to fly when I’m gone, but you’ve always been the caterpillar, not the butterfly.
Previously Published in Wine Cellar Press, 1/11/2022
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