a chill breeze blows
to confuse the sun's light
shining brightly on the leaves
as they flutter softly down
clouds darken the scene
and then...
nothing.
eventually.
a row of elegantly potted bansai trees
each one ideal
determined by its framing
just like us
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the sun shines brightly cutting through the haze into tight corners of the post-atomic daze the concrete alley floor, with its broken flow...
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for fourteen years i wished my father dead at the age of eighteen i buried him it would take another six years to be rid of his physica...
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