June 2, 2012
summer nights and
endless days

have found me on my bed
“could’ve saids” and “if insteads”
replaying in my head

i sigh
and watch the ceiling fan
turning round and round
my thoughts a broken record
on a dusty phonograph

i contemplate
i do the math
i analyze the chance
that if my words were different
my day’d have been enhanced

all the while
my ceiling fan
whirs its soft silent song
as i continue pondering
what else I had said wrong

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