Languor is not the same as lassitude,

in the way hello or even hi is not the same
as hey; gratitude is kin, not sibling to tepid
appreciation. Perhaps the most distant of all
is report for duty. Where does the fickle
heart go at first sign of a cloud? Who comes
to fold down the yellow parasols while the sun
is still shining? who rolls up the awnings,
takes down the Welcome signs, who
picks up the phone to call for a cab?


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