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It started as a letter

It did rain that day. And the next, of course.

The pale glow of the window was enough
which is not too say your shadows are sore and drowsy.
At their most egregious, some have said
even though I prefer them long and mean spirited
like that other time you were surprised not leaving.

The elements?
Well, there was the rain and the long shift by the phone
there was the sound of nothing to do screaming from long ago
and they were all there, their faces also in transit
where they're not as threatening as your note
standing vigil in the kitchen with the rest of them.

The elements?
Well, there was the surprise. All night long
like the heat from the clouds, the alley, the fire
escape to no avail, like the stuff of your words
all over the place, the detestable longing to be


that's what they said
what they read
what they conveyed

your notes
in every door, every wall
in every drop

It did rain that day. And the elements?
They were waiting for me outside of town
like everything else.

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