Sometimes I think about how different my life would be.
Impaired
Somewhere between
the folds of time and space
there’s another me, suspended
in her own pocket of the cosmos of my imagination-
another me
who never finds herself distracted
when passing by a mirror,
and who doesn’t use her hands
when speaking, because her powers of observation
hit a snag at the tunnel-ends
of her eye sockets.
In silence she is alone
with infinite angles
visions unfathomable,
uninspired by the entire galaxies of fading stars
strung in bursts of radiant color
across the trees just outside
her window.
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