querétaro

I don’t want a yearning

I want Tuesday morning 

A list of groceries

And solutions to that smell in the sink


I don’t need devotion

But a hand to squeeze 2 times

Muffled requests in proximate rooms

And toothbrushes past their prime


I’ll take the travel

But I want our routine alarm

And junk mail to a shared address

To be recycled later

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between you, me, and moon