Derelict Sun

The singular sound of roaring cicadas, synching at a sweeping velocity.
The ringing windfall, accompanying the rift.
Damn, it’s hard to think with you in my head.

Someone caught you snoozing at the wheel, and the dopes knew just what to do.
They took you for granted, left you to double back.
Still, buzzing in your head made for a Muzak-al background.
“I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo…”

What my head felt like with a thousand ideations compressed and fighting for air.
The sunlight was safe in the distance.

Taking in the scenery…

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2 comments on “Derelict Sun

  1. natefegan says:

    “The singular sound of roaring cicadas” is (for me) like a series of bookmarks in pages through childhood (that exist otherwise) without numbers… Thank you for writing in unique ways that might (in fact) reach more than one desire for destination.

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