::imaginative introspection::

Imagine that all life is an illusion. All that exists is this moment. No past, no future, each memory, every plan, a part of the illusion. Life, in a photograph.

Do you like the image of yourself?

Sunday, February 14, 2010


The sky is pink,
fading to blue as the slowly rising sun
illuminates winter clouds that hang,
stationary over the city.

Slow jazz floats through the air,
hanging with a smooth viscosity
that reminds me, oddly, of you.

You, drunk, slow,
sitting with your legs swung over the arms of that
arm chair,
your silly smile slowly stretching into a smirk that would make the Cheshire
as I tip the whiskey bottle again
and take a long drink.

And we stayed like that,
sipping whiskey straight from the bottle,
watching the sky change until the dark was gone
and I could sleep.

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