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Friday, December 3, 2010

Things Rise

The smell of the ocean is missing today
her eyes see the blue between the trees-
sailboats curiously flat.

There are no seagulls calling welcome
There was that first day.

It is almost over.

She sees sunflowers, never noticed before,
There are six, one starting to droop.


Planes like car traffic
one after another take off,
very different than the lone sound of a plane,
far off and infrequent, she is used to.

The noise is a unified force.

Metal moving, planes, white transport buses-
orange and brown stripes.
Loud music- a visiting radio station,
here for their last day.

and voices:

A fence of conversations mingled together- everyone anonymous
like how everyone's voice blends together at the beach, she thinks,
where a seagull, a shout, or a child's cry will sometimes rise above.

Things rise here too.

Laughter above a girl who is smoking in a group of six-
childlike, fresh, unplanned.

People come closer
words separate, solidify:
"class talk"
"small talk"
"catch-up talk"
"what's going on talk"
"making plans talk",

The click of shoes as woman with brightly colored hair walks by,
her key chain shows the college name.

Maybe its a slightly burnt smell today
a pigeon too close to her lunch
a sky that swirls with hues of white, grey, and blueish grey,
dorm windows that mirror the darkest part of the sky
perhaps the lone ant she sees to the left.

She notices people walking alone
She looks longer at them
see backpacks and purpose.

a bird flies out of sight.

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