11/16/2019 8:30 PM

Cold rain needles exposed flesh
as a sudden gust of wind
deposes my hat from my head.
It’s mid-autumn in a planned, developed,
fabricated, manufactured neighborhood.
The type you find stamped
all across this land.
Rain, cold, damp dreariness
descended three days ago, but
it’s hard to recall
what the sun feels like or
what it is to wear dry clothes.
To my right the wind smashed
a rotted pumpkin
upon the curb
in front of a home
decorated early for Christmas.

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