Blanket

Usually, I think that where I am is where I’m supposed to be,

at least for now.

Here, in this place, with all of its snow,

with all of its people.

And then, sometimes,

I wake up and I wonder where I am.

Life feels so strange.

I can’t explain it, except to say that I am like a sponge,

absorbing everything around me,

All of the dirt sits on my surface and then sinks into my pores.

I just want to rinse off my skin with hot water,

and crawl under a blanket made of safety.

But, I’m not quite sure where to get one,

since I’m not quite sure what that is.

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