Thursday, January 16, 2014

Orange Joyce

A few things

happening at once

the fog is orange outside

orange tint from street lights


I can see each individual dew drop

hanging like clouds beyond my reach

a police siren reflected in my window pane

looking south facing north

sound doesn't travel far enough to reach

I can only hear the still nothingness of the night

A few things to think about

I roll over and turn on my bedside light

Joyce looking at me through strange spectacled eyes

a photo from a cover printed in 1961

from my beige carpeted floor

through gulfs of time

through the fog of years

A few things

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