Poet's Tea

August 10, 2006

At eight PM

At eight
The weight
of pumped air,
hung in the space between your eyebrows

Lifts.

Reflections;

Collected,
dry-spell rain drops in a fuzzy wall above the eyes,

Stretch out suddenly,
As if rediscovering their legs
After a long cramped journey.

Another day at the office.

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