Thursday 25 April 2013

AIR



the warm days cool evening air trapped inside all night
smells
fresh-foul
and
light-heavy
and 
its stale funk blows slow memories up my nose

of a million other mornings
closed-open
window-doors

and later
the farmers burn smoke on fires like festivals
and the warm wind is dry 
and catches it in handfuls
and
throws
it
all
my way






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