old photo, new sentiments.


i sit here,

where i write

each day,

at the end of the day,

waiting for

my best girl,

(with the help of her nanny),

to find her way

across town and

into my arms.

as i sit,

the sun, it disappears…

it doesn’t

so much as set

here as it gets

enveloped by

the smoke that seems

to rise from the

city at all times

of the day.

the mosquitoes are

on their way,

trying to find

a patch of exposed skin,

before the guy

in gray covers

the grounds in a

thick and lethal fog that

looks like the sky

above, but smells

infinitely worse.

i try to read

more writing from

a far better

writer, but even

his words can’t

keep my attention…

because i know

you’ll soon

be coming through

those doors.

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