Michael O'Leary: The Chills

15 July 2006
The street quite still. Down the long corridor
a light, several doors and a single pine.

Conversations on the wires are quiet,
sequestered from here to there, ear to ear.

The most intimate jokes get lost sometimes,
even simple questions go unanswered.

Quiet's like that. Magnificent crystals
of ice spider across the creaking panes.

 

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