yellow kitchen filling
the small pocket of a memory
borrowed from a friend 6 hours ahead
but abiding in my present
space untouched
coffee pot undisturbed
sunlight hitting the same spot
as this time last year
empty
without but with
the bus took me north of my
usual hemisphere
the need was too strong
to hear a well-known whistle
to sit in a white kitchen
and see the yellow morning sun
stream through familiar windows
full
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