Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Wake

Reading news a week old,
with old music stirring the stifled air;

having supper of coffee, salami
and dead bread with no spots of green;

fresh and free of yesterday’s phlegm –
I am here, with you, safely with you.

There’s time to tell stories, to listen.
There’s no race, no desires, no needs.

Nothing that death can remove.

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