Notes carry on humid air
moisture greasing frequencies
so they slide around trees and buildings
enter windows open on a hot August night
tickle the ears of returning night-shift workers
haunt light sleepers who wait for them
before finally settling like exhausted mayflies
on coffee tables and dressers
forming a thin film that gets wiped away
with the week's dusting
3 comments:
It is poetry-- NOT prose with line-beraks as you seemed to claim in the far away from the madding crowd courtyard of adtura bells.
Shisa
Hey Aish. Glad you finally found me ;-) Hope to see some posts on yours soon. Good as it is, I'm getting tired of that Dear Diary post ;-))
RT
Gosh I AM dyslectic, lexic, ic!
Yes, Dear Diary is past its sellby. Off to work -- asylum interview, then tonight blog blog blog. I think.
maybe about efar of alligators
Aish
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