Saturday, April 14, 2012

An empty can

You're a realist. It's just
an empty can
in the center
of a room
when a chair became a table
in the forever
of an orange afternoon where
no one breathes
blanketed words
dull, the air
is just air
other air.

First three words taken (borrowed? stolen? repurposed?) after reading Arda Collins' poem "Department Store"

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