have collectively strung
thousands of lights
to porches, posts,
and windowsills
in order to beat
back the darkness
in our hearts.
If I stare down
my street as dusk
passes,
breathing deep
unseasonably warm
November,
allow my mind
to become
uncharacteristically
uncluttered,
everything seems alright,
which is a cool
feeling
now and then,
all any of us wants,
really,
even when my
waking mind,
cluttered as it is,
knows better.
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