Monday, December 18, 2006

The Comet

A dead night you fell into,
A dead city adsorbing furious porch lights.
Devil’s cake crumbs for the crows.
A walk through this spray-painted alley,
A wasteland smelling like a swamp.
Desolate man using a rearview mirror
To watch the comet.
The comet not coming around again
Anytime soon.

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