Taxi-cab aftertaste (that particular stale).
A hiccup in
your stride.
But dark so deep and snow so soft.
If you close your eyes then sounds have colors.
The beat kicks in.
Blue-green and blistering. A snare drum mating call.
Somewhere there's a player piano
bringing home three women with dark hair
and bruised eyes.
If you start the long get-away run now,
then by morning your footprints will be gone.
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