Friday, September 4, 2009

because he crossed the place where
endings begin and
noticed the tiny coils that accumulated on sidewalks

he was desperate for small things-
the way bits of gravel dust clung to balmy shins.

the void that overtook at night,
blank walls, empty parking lots.

a quiet comfort of sinking
into beer bottles and folded up into sheets for days.
and shopkeepers
that greeted, staring making him
self-conscious. 

the nothingness that made up 
distractions, the brush of a stranger's shoulder.
the darkness and how he blended into it,
an indiscernible figure.






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