Tuesday, April 6, 2010

SCENE-ING THINGS

Round was a word
And slid from my mind
As if understood was a feeling
I could never touch
And a page became a scene
A memory
As if a thought
So thin
It would be believed as a lie

A piano
Black
In the middle of the
White
Windows
Vacant street
And a man
Faceless, now
A slit in his face
Only opened for a recorded message
That came on Tuesday
at 3:42pm

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