There is a rhythmic hint to every occurrence. The squirrel chirps, and mean while the man sits. A car hums and day light breaks; sky returns warmly, reflecting blue pool. Cop-man rides and radio blares reports. Doctor goes on to surgery after a drink. Yellow clad boys direct traffic, their fellow wields a racket machine that lifts up the lowest dirt. Not many have heard but the news is there waiting to be bought; the last paper in town. Old men conference at the coffee shop table, ranting and then whispering about the international front. A fisherman takes up his heavy catch, sets it down, lights a cigarette while pondering a long gray knife. Blazing upon mostly wood and water, that star goes about its eternal day. A liquid soothes but the thirst keeps coming.
: to be censored after reading.