POCKETS FILLED
WITH DEAD CHANGE
Moonlight doesn't do a thing for me
and I'm listening for a sound instead.
The chomp of a creature, gnawing on
wood. It seems always it's going on.
-
I remember - long times ago - being
impressed by the moon, and the light
of stars and the heavens. Nothing made
sense, in them saying that it took years
for that light to get here. That was dumb.
-
Dumb news for me, and dumb enough
too for everyone else. How could a person
believe anything after that? Like having
new pants, with pocketfuls of dead change.
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