from the window by James Morehead
July 3, 2011
from the window
dearborn station's clock approaches 2:15 from the window perspective rows of snow-stained brick red and brown and weathered yellow stretch back through infinite fog and shadow from the window rooftop smoke scatters like startled pigeons through trees naked and silent lining the tired boulevard from the window victorian dolls face inward with crafted expressions and painted eyes warmed by lavender fringed petticoats from the window listen carefully and hear muted whispers of the city distant sirens that race unseen sorrows from the window the chair across from me lies still empty and waiting
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