(The following is the product of two hours spent NOT doing research.)
My window is a two-way mirror
Outside, trees shiver in the breeze,
stripped bare by glaring streetlights
like things I didn’t mean to say.
Not for the first time, I am reminded
of uncategorized dreams that linger-
salt in my eyes,
dew on blades of grass-
catching like ghosts on my fingertips
that melt away before the sun can ask their meaning.
The world holds a labyrinth of tomes un-perused,
poems untitled, but my muse
must have gotten stuck on your windshield,
and anyway,
the sky has something to tell me.
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