Thursday, August 31, 2006

POEM: A+ Days

There are days
when everything seems correct.
The cars are just the way
they must be,
the streets lie where they were laid,
every wind waits
for the perfect time to puff.
On those days every thought

seems like a shining stone,
every feeling falls like a feather.
On those distinguished days,
even a plastic bag
discarded on the sidewalk
is wrinkled in a way
that seems flawlessly right.

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