Sitting still,
watching.
Orange glow of the lamp
bathes the cracked sidewalk
in a wavering glow
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The form of a man
glides into the light,
stark darkness
crisp form
colored in on the lines
with a shadow crayon
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He leans against the lamppost
Who is he?
Faceless,
man of black.
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The dim glow of a cigarette
comes to life in the night.
Two puffs of smoke and the man is gone,
sliding back into a vast,
formless world;
the impenetrable sea of night
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Standing still,
watching.
An owl's hoot
drifts across the open field before me.
In the distance, the lamppost stands
alone.
Forgotten.
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Until it brings to life
each wandering soul
and makes up a story
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For any words
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can fill a silhouette