in front of me turn green
in quick succession like
hanging dominoes
on a blue table
and the rain on my windshield
spells things out in other languages
a changing map of braille
wiped clean and rewritten
every six seconds.
the conversations rotate around subjects
that i feel neither comfortable or
necessary in the post of the day
and behind the clouds
the sun hides as if it did not
want us to witness it disappear.
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