In the dark she can hear the pink flamingoes
in the yard. They’re coming closer,
but she’s drained the bottle in the kitchen and
the last few drops hit the floor.
There’s going to be a stain.
Her head is getting bigger and she hopes she doesn’t lose it,
but the thumping upstairs
is getting louder.
She takes off her shoes, sets them carefully.
Side by side.
The rabbit is going to be a problem.
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