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It’s 5 o’clock somewhere

October 21, 2010

Where? Office.

Cures irrational dreams.

No sense of purpose. Ennui.

Nonetheless, all is forgiven

For there is a terrace garden.

Grass, flowers, shrubs and

Cemented sitting places

Where every evening

At least twenty random people

Are talking to other twenty

On their phones.

I sit and sip my

Vending machine coffee

From a paper cup

Bury my bare feet

In tickling grass

Get pricked by

Various tiny insects

And feel alive

As the day dies.

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