Day Three: ‘Fog Here’

April 4, 2017

Fog here thickens up like cream.
Some days you can’t even see the spires
on the jigsaw structures spiraling up the sky.
Two days ago, I got so anxious
my hands tingled and my chest felt like an oven
looking up at the stupid things.
Now, hours out of that mental cloud and into a real one,
a weatherful one,
I can’t stop staring and filling myself with stillness,
like cigarette smoke from a happy mouth,
inside a globed glass,
next to all my friends and the loves I follow.
Awash in a throb of brain peace, elusive as fog.


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