The last of the birthday cake
plunged into the trashcan
as the three pennies in my pocket
howled at the teapot moon.
Meanwhile,
my Shih Tzu fell back asleep,
my wife logged back on,
my daughter checked out,
and I found myself wandering,
as I’ve often always done,
up and down Escher’s stairs,
panting in ragged rhythm to
the spectacular deaths of the stars.
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