and mysterious bits of unconstrained,
self-contained underwater breathing apparatus.
There are balled up socks on the stair.
Meeker is blissfully asleep
atop a pile of unmentionables that I won't mention.
Jesse is doing her best to descend into the basement
where a Bon-Tempi, Easy-Beat-One version of "My Music At Work"
is being sung by a voice that makes my heart jump,
my throat tighten and my eyes fill.
Hello, Heartbeat. You're home.
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