The middle of a busy week
accumulates around my head.
I remember Saturday mornings
where the clear and clean space
of the green yard and blue sky
grow bright right with me.
But then, without the rest of the week,
Saturday would have no name.
From the need for rent money
I would have no rest.
A fat fly cruises around my office.
I take off the screen, open the window,
and he goes right out.
He went back to work, I think.
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