A Nachtpoem
A man proceeds drifting down the street
He smells something we can't smell
We smell home fires, grilling, pies and cakes baking, the common home smells
But our man on the street licks his lips, opens the door to the house, closes it behind and shuts off the lights.
February 18, 2010
Ⓒ February 18, 2010 by Luke DeLalio
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