Dream

we were talking about the usual polished stones of ego skimming along the surface of the fuzzy waters of maybe-death talking wall talking arrest talking headlines but there is something different something in the sky which is crisp there is glimmering yellow grass and turquoise wisps of sky and there are birds two or three of them sighted doves the size of trucks of small dinosaurs their wings frail skeletal as they fly slowly low circling as we talk we begin to realize the reappearance of the birds means

8:10 Am.

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