done.
or just beginning?
that makes me laugh
inside
whatever that's called.
I want to be done.
nothing's ever
always part way
when I die
there'll be some
leftovers.
I remember my work
it was something
wonderful
at least to me
it informed
my being
my beginning
no longer
I'm done.
cooked on both sides
ready to take off the grill
a little scorched on the outside
but still pink in the middle.
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