shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Lee Evans

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October First

the sun ascending
through the towering pines
a dull aching
behind my right eye

an old crow croaks
in the bushes nearby
and my anger and pain
color the autumn leaves

the sky makes me blue
with unattainable clarity
as I fall short once more
from the ideal to the real

I went outside to get away
from what was inside
but neither side was where
it all began or ended