All is rushing by

colors fade

the night holds no color for me

it keeps it hidden between the folds of hours

that run cool and smooth

it soothes and caresses

enfolding and nimbly touching

the secret unseen lands

buried in the deep wet reds

that moisten its fingers

and it turns the pages again

until it yields to the day

colors clusmily blot in the

blank spaces with the noise

it calls singing

no mystery remains


the sound of the wheels

that spin and take me nowhere

one hundred miles an hour


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