Back in Seaside
Rain interchangeable with the walls it falls against alphabetless like a neon ring above an extincted window showcasing something formerly fabulous now kinda poignantly disappeared. I guess that means we're back in Seaside (since we must begin somewhere) and it's probably summer but can't be as long ago as the date you suggest since I wouldn't have been born, or quietly gagging at the sentence re: photographs being "fairly far removed" from sculpture anyway belied by a euthanized block of period tract housing the loading dock's pair of refrigerated trucks the guileless curbs below the blandishing panes of all those plate windows the corrugated doors rolled shut against a statement the curves of the cars as they throw back their throats to the light the furtive things people do in the night (or don't do) bluely compiled screen by screen in perfervid surveillance I just want to say yes to you, yes and watch this.
Copyright © 2011 by Shanna Compton. Used with permission of the author.