This shortest day has been flooded with sunlight. I slept almost none of the night. The hinges of the year have felt rusted shut for a long time, but I can't pretend it hasn't still been swinging to the rhythm of axial tilt whatever once and future fantasies people like to frame themselves inside. Sidereal time does not care whether I still have to ask the contractors to mask themselves before they cross our threshold—strange guisers—to repair some small parts of our house. It was oddly, seasonally apropos. Happy solstice! If the sun can come back, why not the rest of us, at least once in a while?
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- 1: There's more room on the basement couch
- 2: A stranger light comes on slowly
- 3: A kidnapper wouldn't jump into a cold sea
- 4: I might fail math if you don't move your shoulder
- 5: One boundary makes another
- 6: I swear only this city knows
- 7: It's maybe five minutes onscreen
- 8: From the morning past the evening to the end of the light
- 9: I bought Blue Velvet on a DVD
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