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sunday

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  • sunday

    its sunday night and i'm looking out the window onto the dark city and her sleepy skyline. but my thoughts don't match what my eyes have presented before me. my thoughts are somewhere else. not a specific place or with a certain person, just kind of somewhere else. what i see outside is the outline of a rugged, windy january evening. the parking lot is painted w/ ice, cigarette butts, and broken bottles. a few cars have called it a night and one car hasn't moved since early september. just past the lot is the dumpster. its belly is full. each night a few bums eat dinner here. i havent seen them yet tonight but they will have plenty to choose from.

  • #2
    did you write this on the fly? nice story

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