Imagine I am drawing a picture of you
as you

lie awake, watching

You are partly covered by a fortunate sheet
bare feet crossed at the ankle

There is a sleepy ceiling fan stirring some air
spinning the red shoelace we use as a cord

A few doors down
a talented and depressed neighbor plays his cello
heartfelt music drifts skyward in the damp night air
I draw some of those invisible notes on your back

Imagine.

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