Late evening in the country
is colored differently than in the city
the smog shrouds the colors that would be
in mystery. A mystery that the country sky
does not peculate. A wash of dark blues and violets
soft in the clouds with undertones of fuchsia.
a veritable palette. An artisan plate of deliciousness
that the cuisine of the city keeps masked in too much
oil. Out here frogs are frogs, in there frogs are roaches.
Out there steam rises in healthy billows blown away by the
Breeze. In there the steam petrifies.

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