Cayce Case Cased

All he needed was a name and
An address to deliver a diagnosis.

What I precipitated in a post-
Card to an Old sire address?

This was my measure, my warrant
Of time, to measure the sublime.

I still struggle to accept her
As the one the world will point.

It was her name on the card
That pinched time in a line terse.

The deed was done from an implicit
Fare, her Truth or Dare.

Mistaking her address from an old
Smudged cassette I found in sister’s
Room.

Here is the plate of streamofconscious
prosody I put to that card- lime:

Daphne danced
Duldgres dirge
Spifs flute
Open Paranoia
Crim tone

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