Wednesday, November 12, 2008

the potted plants

suddenly yellow
the stone toad stood there
silence, nothing but the dripping sink.

she pours out the cold coffee
out the window fog and dogs barking
somewhere, she thinks, there are alps.

the man who had once been young
floats big rocks of ice in whiskey
the sun was still good.

i took it home
african violets…
you've got to be strong in the shadows.

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