Like falling stars, landing in perplexity
Perhaps from a better place, yet here
On a Monday, against the streaked rain
To brush tangled, wet hair from
Sullen eyes, or shake a drop
From the end of a red nose
Looking in, as though a best friend
Might raise an eyebrow
Or a prodigal comet would show its plume
In a grey world
Where vaporizing bodies with steaming coffees
Return a smug half-smile, eyes look down
Three vacant seats protected from all sin
The outside might bring
Inoculated by a tenant overlapping a chair
A croissant wider than a mouth
Tells a longer story than words
As Mondays come and go, you know
©2009 Hey Hey
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