the rain slapped at
the concrete
as the sluice runs down
the side of the
overflowing gutter
to crash down
over the entrance to
the causeway

the coffee pot
out to the new day
of fresh
caffeinated sludge
to coat the tongue
from the bitter taste
of memory

all along the railing
outside the window
by blasts of thunder
by forked tongues of lightning
the birds all sit
staring into the dark room

and i am so
very tired
that the raptor gaze of
barely evolved
prehistoric hysteria
calls out from the
last vestiges of
primordial ooze
like bubbling tar
on my mind’s eye

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