anniversary is approaching some happy days. Too late morning, fresh pillow times, drops on the window, mosquito riverfront, laughing in another language, birthday, hot nights.
This time there is balance, the scales fell off long ago with the weight of mediocrity and despair. There are memorials, memories, private stories, travelogues, mental snapshots.
The city is poised to become the typical elephant graveyard, with its office on weekdays and tourists downtown loosely constructed. There is a shadow that covers my memory, like a star tested, reveling in his powers, inflaming beliefs and superstitions.
The pale moon enchants me in these days of celebration and fireworks, citing my desire to get cold beautifully to nap time. I can barely hold my eyes open, optimistic thoughts remind me another invaded in December so far, remember the promises, the echo before the shooting start.
I think of these new coffee mornings, pills and photocopying noon bus back in full to meet in peace conciliatory lunch and dream deferred. Boca
above the ceiling may lead me to another roof, shaking those moments of peace on one side, love and air conditioning.
And the morning sounds like ...
How Shall I fill The final places?
How Should I complete the wall ...
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