Thursday, July 1, 2010

Today printers whirr, keys are hit like a broken piano, public servants drone and a cop evades the truth. I smell a bowl of oranges and freshly brewed coffee.

Yesterday I heard wind hugging the bay and dogs barking, their yelps fading into the sun.

On the weekend I saw waves talking to the shoreline; each crash another conversation in a cacophany of water and sand.
Just now a paper bag crushes against a hand, a nose is blown. A story is told and people's faces contort.

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