the leaves in the bottom of my teacup
give no indication as to what i should answer when i am asked
"where do you see yourself in five years?"
the leaves are about as useful as my eyes without glasses.
they’re in random shapes, nothing that matches the book--
nothing is how it should be.
like my old camera from the flea market with a broken focus,
it’s right there in front of me.
but no matter how much i adjust the lens,

By Isha Chirimar

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