Thursday, August 25, 2011

Midnight

I sat on the stoop
The silence closed in
Enveloped me like a security blanket
Allowing me to hear the night time sounds
Usually muffled by daytime whitenoise-makers
Train whistles
There always seem to be train whistles
And planes roaring overhead
Outside my front door
Underneath only one single star
Bright enough to survive the smog
Of Los Angeles

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