AND NOW
These minutes tick off like time zones in a camera's
eye, the watchful morning, the dark night sky. The
stand-out hawk is watching. Along the storefronts
on this old broken street, the television eye is watching.
He who labor's is love's labor lost; Pippa Passes, and
Pilgrim's Progress too. Somewhere off, a liquid taxi
droops its yellow reflection on a twisting window's
glare. Homer's Fabric Shop, Hiram's Screws and
Fasteners. The feeling is wrong and unsettled,
even as the mind warms to all these things.
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