Saying “spinach” like it’s spelled with two i’s and two n’s. A pair of each, yes, me and the animal inside, both i and double no, instinctive, negative negative into a singularly false perfect ok positive with a one-word name, mine, these outwords trying to align with inner constitution and somehow that’s what I think of after talking with my friend this morning about the photo she took of a diamond-shaped manhole cover with id id id id id all across it like a letterpress printing block—spinnich, because that makes sense. Good reminder, though, I need some.
