space, A.C., paper
pens, pain, quiet, world-wide web,
free oft empty hours
outside's a city
safer for people with cars;
I haven't got one
barking dogs in yards
hobo hustlers on corners,
divine blue sunshine
each empty lot boasts
wild flower gardens to match
The Sistine Chapel
no whisky these days,
no real rule, no judgement but
no whisky these days
remarkable path
life's been for me: bad stomach,
aches and pains, soul scars
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