Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Tuesday Is Like Tuesday.

This morning fills in some rooms, blue and cold,
Nothing mysterious nothing enigmatic.
Silver grey streaked until the sun burns it off.
Something to look for, under a new thermal skin,
Cornering in a hollow of bricks, crouched on the idiot porch.
Spreading out, happily, growing moss in the shade of this town.
Rehab zombie remorseful. Wake up.

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