Here come those window pains

drumming with water from the sky

the wasted days slide from my scalp

and clear the view to the day on the right

and the left is only here

where they do not play for a dime

but ask for nickels in store changed

items of clothing

to hide their stumps

of hatred.


your virtual

hand comes in handy

when chatting to girls


You lose your sight on the half

toned sepia of memories long past

but here it is good

and refreshed every moment of the day.


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