February 9, 2014
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Watery orange paint
Was running down the fresh wall.
I could see me in it;
I was riding a gray horse
Far away from this apartment,
This street,
This city.
I smiled.
She walked back into the room,
Looked at the wall
And barked orders.
Her cigarette was the same orange.
The bruise on her head
Proved she needed it.
The bruise on my back screamed.
In the paint,
I caught sight of myself again;
The horse was gone,
He was there,
There was a beach,
And enough air to breathe
For an entire life time,
Enough air to fill my nervous lungs.
I smiled.
Somewhere a door slammed
And the beach was gone.
The smokey, angry air
Pushed out my temporary contentment,
And in the mirror,
I saw my bitter eyes.
Then the horse ran across the wall,
And that was the only time
I smiled.

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