Poetry from the Blue Break Room 3
June 18, 2011
This is Our Holiday
Candidates sitting outside, holding the cigarettes that
Cast syringe-like shadows from the street lamp overhead,
Which forms clumps of blurred silhouettes out
Of tired bodies on the carefree cement.
Wet circles appear with a plop
And mark their place within the darkness
Like muted fireworks on display
Two hours to kill after a long hard day
We will watch the rain and stay.
This is our holiday.
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