29 December 2007

Dusty Sun

Gaze. Cellphones beep constantly, Buses rush endlessly. A dust storm rises on my face, Blurred to day dreams and motor thoughts. Paronomasia of crows added to wheels, and an old radio beating waves and notes, algid air takes count. The jitney rolls, caressing bumps and ditches, damp rain water, splashing with the slush, greased. No one punes to my ear, caught in the routine radio, melancholy of times unvisited, reluctant eyes unpurposefully gaze. Looking at juments, An ox pulling a cart, Outdoors incessantly filled with indoor fugginess - dream of a jeremiad and a happy song. Gaze - a recondite, sleeping and snoring; when gossip rises, unrevealed lives, strangers hear, mundane entertainment. Bathos playing on laps, evening glances in memory, stealing time for coffee and talk or clapperclaw, better than bruxism. Gaze.

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