HAVE YOU NOT NOTICED?
A patterned madness is woven into your
sweater; it's a pattern I've never disliked,
'though I can't say I've liked it either. Now,
even as the colors are fading and the flag is
on the run, I can still quite plainly pick it
out.
-
Here comes the sun again, as almost every
other morning. An orangy light creeping
over the hills from the east. The direction
wouldn't matter, but it's the only one we
get. Why am I always watching? Every
day now is a cancelled expectation?
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