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  • In spite of my best efforts,
    this morning remnants of last night's dreams
    chase me
    into the woods to shake
    half glimpses of half nothings.

    Silly nothings really.
    I am as jumpy as a hare.

    Slowly slowly
    I run my hands along
    calloused bark
    to feel the scrape of skin upon skin.
    I walk through
    floats of dry leaves
    to hear the rough scutter.

    The sun warms my skin.
    I come to my senses
    break from the night

    turn for home.

    What was I thinking to feel frightened by
    figments stirred by dinner and wine?
    I take things too seriously.

    But then my eyes double-cross me.
    I should have kept them shut.

    Just to the the side of the trail
    a spectre
    a doppelgånger
    of what chased me deep
    in the half-maybe of last night
    stands there smirking.

    I am snagged once again
    on the games night plays with day
    day plays with night
    and both play with me.
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