night, house and rain

there is another perfect little Eden
calling for you.

Let it bring you and your shoulders


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.

little Eden.


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