As I raise my eyes to greet the solitary wall
Of gray
I search
And claw, to decipher the foreign
Familiar
Shapes of fancy that scowl and giggle from their
Loft,
But I am thirsty and thrusting my arms -
Water in pails
Flying, unbroken - and striking down the words
And neither of my needs.
Ben Finkel
March 17th, 2007
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