Can it be that waiting for her message back is like waiting for the heater, which is unreliable at the best of times, to finally click on and rescue you from the cold. The cold of the car of the home of the campsite of the quiet and the far apart.
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Nice poem. I particularly enjoy short poems, the kind that hint at a larger story that has been left unsaid. Several of yours that I've read have fallen into this category. Thanks for posting 🙏