It does not bother me 

To put away the dishes in a stranger’s house  Imagining a natural order to things: Forks, knives, spoons or Forks, spoons, knives But almost always forks first I’m insane for the order that abjures chaos (these days) So your plate stack comforts me  Because it is like my grandmother’s or Not like my ancient lover’s… Continue reading It does not bother me 

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