the digital clock counts down noislessly. red flashing seconds leave burned images on inner ear. medeival philosophers and vienna doctor weigh unbearably upon these almost finished shoulders. sunday marks graduation. ô to be finished with the humidity ruined curled pages of georgia life. macon. i shall not miss thee. however, someone has thrown pearls before swine. jazz poet, the lonliest monk with the seven faces of god. japanese miscommunication - and ô so small hands. seventeen year old words and curves that i won't let myself adore. swedish canadian golfer who was once sharer of another abode.

but people not the place.

cherry blossoms littering streets and sidewalks. train tracks leaving marks upon dreams. antebellum house with chandelier swaying slightly. sweetrotten scent of summer in april. clock chiming salute always five minutes en retard. no. i shall not miss thee.

friday nights spent alone. wretched odor from paper mill stealthily creeping in my window. empty streets and boarded up windows. crime, violent crime. ghosts of old broken swedish love and thoughtless infidelity. i shall not miss thee...