Wednesday, March 4, 2015

The jacket

the pot brims of today's
downpour, roses, dog and fish have fallen
to earth. I move to the side, careful with the produce
not mine and not yours
there's so much to think about
like the fact that I am wearing your precious jacket
but there's a dead rat by my feet
like the fact that the streets are now unfamiliar
to the beating of horns
but the corners are just the same.

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