An Evening in Allentown

The night is talking to me.

The house from across the street called

as I was whispering to the raindrops.

But the raindrops didn’t answer

and threw themselves at me instead,

hitting my window, even

crawling on it like they were trying to get in

and get me.  And so the window stood firm,

but my palm gave itself to the window anyway,

while outside, the stars laughed,

the moon winked, the train honked,

and I was left with my palm conversing with a cold window.  

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