Not Another Confessional (rev)
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Driving and voice texting and steering and voice texting and not breathing and not looking. I’m home before I noticed I missed the whole thing - the scenic route, the smell of fresh herbs, any hint of a fresh thought. Spearmint, rosemary, lavender, “Love Supreme” consecrate the saunter of a drive home. The sigh from my belly wants the scenic route. So we take it, giving more time to steep with my potent passengers - fresh herbs and Coltrane.
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