Friday, January 21, 2011

the end of december

sitting on the back of a bus
from jersey
to new york city
watching the shifting landscapes of my life

through the icy window
and the snow
there are jungles and dirty apartments
basements and fist fights
births, deaths, moths
rain for days
the desert
the sowing of seeds
porch swings, empty bottles

high tides.

there is always a window.

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