

Don't Write Anything Above It
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Don't Write Anything Above It
I read once
that in the centuries before
home refrigerators were invented
it was apparently routine
to throw a frog
in milk,
in the milk jug,
so it would not sour.
Or sour as fast.
Because of some secretion
on its skin,
how they managed to figure that out, I wonder.
A live frog
into the milk.
I imagine it
sitting,
staring into the distance,
green,
not understanding,
reflecting on its stupid life,
in the white darkness,
or not even that much.
Just thinking
He should call someone, thinking
not his father though, thinking
he should take out the recycling bin, thinking
I should be sleeping, thinking,
why can’t I fall asleep again, thinking,
what is this noise in my head, thinking, what am I, thinking,
why am I so misunderstood, thinking, I


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