Do they recede in the order
In which they came to you
Standing walking speaking
Going over the old equations
The mind at the chalkboard
Intermittently erasing
What some other part of it
Immediately replaces
One learns to sit in silence
Two eyes observing the world
And that one eye inside
Peering into the depths
Of your soul's November
That boy at the bus stop
Bag packed waiting
Remembering what he forgot
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