Sunday, November 4, 2007

to write

i'm sweeping up the glass, now:
when i wake up
it's noon
on sunday
my hair is uncurled
i'm wearing my own clothes
the alley and the bleachers are full of snow.
cars are speeding down Crowchild-
I took a picture
to show you later
what a good job they did of
sweeping
up.

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