You sit and watch years pass out the window. You see
again through bare trees lights change over intersection.
Police cars taxis wear away white stripes painted fresh
it seems just yesterday. Stray people walk through cold
like forms move through an architect’s elevation. De Chirico.
Another cigarette after the trash is out. Hear the plastic outside
rattle in the wind. Feel satisfied — the dubious gift: finding it
gone tomorrow. The reassuring onslaught of days
like waves pounding the shores of our lives.
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