separate clauses

it’s a hard thing,

this lucid living:

sitting on a donated couch

in an already-sold house

with someone whose grave

I had just visited.

“but I’ve been to your

grave,”

the words unspun

from tangled teeth.

It was hard to know

just what to say;

so into the void left

by contradiction rang out

“… well, I guess…

how have you been?”