Rain,
men’s voices
in the alley,
an unusual
day in May.
The pink hand
of a soft girl,
morning
Spring rain
sprinkles San
Diego.
That certain
smell of some
library books---
where has
time
vanished? ....
WHERE DOES TIME
VANISH?
Slowing down
the mind,
something
else
being
sensed,
perhaps far
away so
close.
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