The mauve in a vault of storm clouds
On the east side of Lorain, Ohio
trees bend over silent streets
as if the weight of the sky is
too much. I spin along the sidewalk,
crystal and efficient, another mad
man out in pitch night, looking for
the mauve in a vault of storm clouds
that released on us before dusk.
A curtain is open quarter-way on
the second floor of Stan’s Grocery.
Houses push me through the street
making ghost more of me each block
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