Friday, April 15, 2011


When life begins to
wrinkle at the edges,
surprise buries itself
in the backyard next

to the asparagus patch.
The same rain repeats
itself, reemphasizing wet.
The sun, older than

Aunt Sue, wonders why
it bothers. The
wind, forgetting which
direction to blow in,

ties itself in knots
and carries the town away.

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