i. twilight on crewdson
Through storefront windows, the succulents phosphoresce. Security sleeps under the thieves. Shoes are being idolized, elevators filling with heavy cologne.
Like aquariums blue with Television fluid, suburban light is moving sans control—
all walls turned to H2O. The oaks aglow upon the lawn
serenade us to a boardwalk rendezvous with the golden orange of our body
moonlighting as our child.
Midnight cake is drowning in a bath of milk. Shoes are being idolized.
I know this air:
Spring is coming, the hyacinth,
the impatiens.
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