Fibre

I was becoming totally cynical,
indifferent and brittle, angry, disavowed
when I sat down to watch
Lost in Translation again and went
for a walk in the local park
back to that movie again and again.
I re-read the letters my dad wrote me
and now turn again to Frost, still convinced
everything is fake though not quite
in the same way
not that that means much at all
but there’s a difference between
wool and acrylic again

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