La risacca

January 2, 2013

I examine the way the light enters my window,
first at 7:43,
and then a 10 on the nail.

The whitewashed sound,
of passing cars.

It seems so familiar, but I am alone now,
and my walls are red.

It is hard to imagine it ever getting quieter:

Tepid/spectral,

with defeat.

If I could be any word,

just for today,

it would be You.

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