Tuesday, July 03, 2007

night school

fluorescent light blocks out the dusk that threatens to put us all to sleep, notice broken clouds grey in part illuminated in part almost pink above the tree dusk creeping around the clock while we try to fit in every story before parting. what evening light comes between vertical blinds, at an angle, blowing with air from the fan, clanging plastic blinds disturb spontaneous conversation, or a question, addressed out loud, while what was clearly lit by dry warm sun all afternoon turns soft like under the gaze of a particular lens, and buildings melt together with their contexts, while we listen to explanations of mysterious stories convoluted by language and movement in multiple directions, like on days I pack bags with folders and books from places all across town.

the broken clouds remind me to sleep fast, run slow, learn to wade through the moving dusk

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