Tilt the world

on its side

so can print out

my surroundings easier.

My day becomes

a rental agreement,

a contract of hours

chasing after the horizon.

The edge of the city

is a straight line

and my gaze is a panorama

of my routine, mundane,

and misfit seconds.

I rustle through the junk drawer

to find the spare pieces

of the landscape.

I am always wedging a stray house,

hydrant, or memory

into this sideways puzzle.

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