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

Mike Dillon


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Touch of Cold

"It's cold in here," she said.
"Some malignancy is moving this way."
And so, I awoke from the dream of life.

"Then let's leave," I snapped.
We stepped out of the abandoned cabin
into the sunlit world of white hawthorn,
mottled cedar shade,
the bright chippings of sparrows.

The world I cling to.
The world that holds some secret
emerged from some secret deeper down.
The world I walk through gazing at flowers.