A few things
happening at once
the fog is orange outside
orange tint from street lights
CAPITAL LETTERS
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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