An Hour

Fall in to the day, exhale the haze. Ashes of Arabic hashes oak smoked the tongue. Cycle the streets, chew on strawberry gum. Lukewarm, shades on, black lenses blanket senses, blinker the sun storm. Hasidic Jews crackle in black, a Kippa replaces December’s precarious hat. Soft drinks and ice cream and premature cider, trickled and dribbled and mingled inside her. Watch wintered branches shadowed in March’s sallow sun. Pop another strawberry gum. Slow steps race the sunset, through dusty windows watch its final blaze, light ignite the passive gaze.

The End

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