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Don't panic; just a random poem that got written on a long plane ride.


And in the end it matters
That there's a coffee stain on one of the blue-striped placemats,
Two razored beard hairs caught in the rim of the bathroom sink,
Three different bottles of hot sauce in the refrigerator door,
Four unreadable books stacked beside the chair with the good lamp,
Five envelopes per day offering credit cards not in my name.
In six months, they'll be gone, cleaned up, put away, stopped,
But between this breath and the next
It matters
That once you were here.
edited: nothing like posting something to make you want to tweak it further :-P