Nocturnal reflections of deep concern

not with the knuckle
but the palm
running down the corridor
slapping all the doors
there is no time
there is no time
and the lady with the beads
the water – the wine
the candle – the ritual
the scent of tomorrow
and yesterday mingled
[the perfect sensual
sensate incense]
red lights and traffic cops
and ambulance sirens descanting
we don’t have time
we don’t have time

.

.

 

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