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January 15, 2014
It's a wet day.

much

Like any other.



It is the red wheelbarrow

which has been there

most every other day

leaned up in the dance

of the

red shed.



It is a slow dance

with the rain bleeding rust

paint and the sweat smell

strained through webs of cloth and skin.



There are so many variations

on this day

just how are you

to know when you have stumbled

over a root

a brick

an idea

a blinding retrograde blood sugar

smack into a different day?



Is it the dance?

the dance of the lean

on the Red shed?