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Let every best thing
find you driving, like a phone call:

able to take it. May myriads
of second chances

grab you, like a package,
retracted to check instructions.

May bad ideas lack
consequence, like use-by dates

on bottled water, your
glory days proliferate

like suburbia, uncertainties
turn out you’ve pulled in

with your gas tank
up next to the pump;

May great love become
the stuff of touches

smudging the surface
of that deep, black screen

always lazing familiar
in the palm of your hand.

Photo by Jonathan Chng on Unsplash

Grace H. Shaw

GRACE H. SHAW is an emerging poet pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing through Seattle Pacific University. She lives, works as a florist, and occasionally sits by the Potomac river near Washington D.C. The only hobby of hers worth noting is losing sleep over good conversations; she writes poetry because she has to.