The smoker on the heath,
exhaling.
The gas guzzler,
fuming on the street.
Building work half done,
half complete.
A mound or two of
dirt encrusted ice.
Detached and
not quite there.
Disengaged.
Disconnected.
Falling out and falling through.
Tracing a pattern
from A through to C.
Flakes of reality from
an undigested life.
March 6, 2018
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