Dead satellites

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



Bogdan Puslenghea
Illustration Nick Victor


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