night, house and rain

Listen,
there is another perfect little Eden
calling for you.

Let it bring you and your shoulders
home.

Home;

white lace blots wet pavement,
gasoline rainbows and yellow reflections.
Nostalgic, almost
like overheating in bed.
I am sure the clouds appreciate this song.

It is stale at this point.

I watch the clock face
deepen its numbers.
All the desk is red in its shadow.

Everything else is white
or black.

It reminds me of a dream I had,
a man all white
in a room all black
hunched, sad, and turned away.
It frightened me almost awake when I reached for him.

I can barely hear the rain when I open my eyes.

And this
is night.

Goodnight,
little Eden.

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