At the Center For Questionable Thought
we waited on a delivery,
while waiting we chatted, talked,
watched the sun go down over the
fields outside the windows,
it bleached the air with some sort of electricity
that was orange
and it excited us and the insects out in the fields too.
We drank a couple beers, held their tastes,
smelled the smell of the old place,
I do recall a smell of dank linoleum.
We also did a bunch of filing of papers and organizing
all the boxes by their months and years.
We waited for the deliveries
and were congenial with each other as we did,
as we were inside that structure.
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
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