haiku

the rain brought a mud  smell, a few meter-hours of europe in the west 

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it’ll be hot soon, i’m morning cleaning the garage skirting a dead roach  

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too late for jay songs, the ambulance is fading but the dogs still howl 

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each year the summer runs longer; i feel guilty for owning jackets 

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ice cracks as we walk, i keep my hands in my coat cause i lost my gloves 

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outside the twentieth story window a piece of paper fluttered by 

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a spider sleeps next to my screen, unaware twitter’s scrolling by

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the animals lie on tiles hiding from the heat, outside the grass dries 

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cold spring breeze pushes leaves and barely strains oak branches, suspended girl swings 

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a human caterpillar marching downtown, it’s too hot to not hide in shade 

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a septal tear drop in september wind, squirrels ignore us as they work 

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fog in my head spreads out into the street, glowing red ghosts surround me 

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no cars on the road, the stray cats keep strolling by on the fence outside 

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heat floats like a wet  sponge, i’m carrying a lost crab to the water 

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gulls hover in fog, unbroken into the sky the ocean continues 

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another batch of kittens outside oblivious to my cat glaring