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saturday. a minute after six
the gray light
formed luminous shapes
behind the drapes

whilst deathcab
sang a plead
through the speaker subdued 
by a caterwaul
                of aircondition

weary from letters, the eyes
and mind was near collapse

is languishing between
                time and space
                real and imagined
shadows and figures

what was for breakfast?
a glass of water, left-over bread
and cigarette, perhaps