11th
Like so many crystal balls
The streetlamps glowed tripled
Against the sky, and out from
Chilled puddles on the ground-
My future too?
I think of a dust cloud
Small and drifting up
From shuffled tarot cards
A memory exposed;
If you shook my bones
Or more appropriately, tossed them
Like fortune telling tiles
A similar smell would drift by
Cold as puddles, and my lying eyes
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