windows frame everything so spectacularly
the pale yellow of the warehouse next-door and a set of weathered telephone poles become artwork, fit to fill the greater expanse of a wall simply because the air around it is real and the weather giving its backdrop changes.
a bird comes to perch, then leaves.
a horse pulls its passengers hypnotically by
and the storm-threatened sky has made everything gray
ish
like a lucid film that lifts and settles, back and forth to change the shade of the warehouse's yellow brick ever-so-slightly
This makes it worthy of my glance
the life in it
wonderful as it is, i'd rather be on the other side of that little square frame
running on my trail
i'll get there yet
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