Here was the barn
where I watched you burn all my clothes
then you sent me back to the house
to fill up buckets
and put out the fire
And the trees are tall or gone now
as I used to know them all
they seem to have shifted over
towards the sunset tinted evening
You can't keep up behind me as I advance
towards a black wheelbarrow that corrects my memory
my presumptions bury underground
as you stand in the patch of missing grass
and squint at the dirty barn
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