Dead satellites

Found myself this morning
Literally spitting out in the rain
The air was calm and the
lights
In the streets were pale,
kind of sad, and warm
The cars seldom rare yet
Vigilant,
My moves like cut diamonds
Dig the continuous pleasantly
Monotonous rain /Curtain
down
Cool lights – out lights
Still, according to a fantasy
Rain, your shadow’s more
rain

Bogdan Puslenghea
Illustration Nick Victor

 


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