Monday, June 24, 2019

No idea (Day 887)

Even when silence paints his walls gray, 
his door opens inward, toward drenching 
rain, and sleet, and snow three feet deep 
or more. Among this surging crowd he did 
not think he’d last so long, resting on his 
deep green, but looking at that man makes 
him feel something or other. Is anyone here 
real? Waitress tells him she has no idea.


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Kenneth C Zirkel
(CC BY-SA 4.0)

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