Dream A Little Dream

I rarely see the world’s golden glow
the way it is meant to be seen —
my eyes do not work that way
anymore

I see shadows play on asphalt &
sometimes a little light
shining through concrete cracks
while I do not rush the rush
& pretend to notice
all the colors.

– constant –

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Si(de)n(ote)

is it the first
or the last of us
who gets the meaning
behind Medusa’s crackling smile?

we dare not look —

just once,
maybe.