Eventually,
I’ll get back to the narrative —
I do want to get home —
but for now,
I’m content with this fruit
before me, this peach.
It’s a story too.
Seed within both past and future.
But the flesh is present, so wetly present,
and it is all I want right now.
This moment free of nostalgia
and anticipation. This sweet
ball of interruption.
I reach for it
and let the narrative go.

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