In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

Night Reflections: upon returning from the late shift

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The air smells like parafin, peculiar for a sea town

where the air is thick with briny life, salty and swollen,

a burning candle somewhere aromatizes cottages

suburban slakes of tract homes cut to sidle boulevards.

And the sweat of my back drying astringent-tight

skin shrunken in sere retreat until the morning dew.

It is cool and soothing to be motionless, settling in.

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