by Yaacov Dovid Shulman
There were brass tacks all over the floor
And brass words whizzing through the air
And the rush of the wind, or rocks, or what-have-you.
There was yesterday and there was tomorrow.
There was the rain that had been swallowed into the night
And left behind puddles in the street
Like the streaks of a giant snail.
There was love and there was breakfast.
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