I try to relive every Groundhog day as if it were my last.

There is a slight warmth on the posterior of my neck

that seems lost like those foreigners who speaka English.

I will do that yesterday, they said

as we appreciated

the sarcastic fonts of that sarcophagus in the Louvre

And those ritzy pretzels

were making me thirsty

for a delicious nap.

Now let me savor

these silver slumbers

seep into my sides –

they serve me plates of respite

from textbooking—

as permanent as love.