Fighting for the silver chariot of the parking lot.
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  • Carts In Fog

    Posted on March 22nd, 2009 luke No comments

    carts in fogThe lot steps off into whiteness.
    People or stars
    Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

    The car leaves a line of breath.
    O slow
    Sedan the colour of rust,

    Wheels, dolorous wobbles —-
    All morning the
    Morning has been blackening,

    A bag left out.
    My bones hold a stillness, the far
    Streets melt my heart.

    They threaten
    To let me through to a heaven
    Starless and fatherless, a dark asphalt.

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