each morning i wake, shower, eat
   in snatched bites on the way to
   work
   lunch
   coffeebreaks
   the same jokes, they still make me laugh
   but i have heard them all before 
   then the bar
   duncan's jamaica stories, helen's love life
   hairy's tales of woe
   and krish will forever talk about
   linux
   and i will laugh, and go home, and
   maybe ring my mother
   read
   sleep
   and time becomes a loop, a throwndown rubber band
   slightly wavy and stretchy
   and with a hollow feeling
   but still retaining
   closure

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