Last year
was left sitting
in the next to
best seat in the house.
In front of it was
a shot glass
of spilled whiskey
(re)filled with beer.
2011 was
left alone with
the coats.
They're seated
three: his, hers, his.
Not seated
but standing:
he, she, them.
In the new year,
the vision forward
eclipses
the rear view—
periphery seems
wider.
This year
a better seat.
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