LatinosUSA

A tense music, yet somber, beats
its heart out for the man shrunken
inside his own skin. He knows why
two cops may appear at his door.
They stand beside an unturned gnome
and beside his son’s unfinished woodwork
and rusting tools. Do you know even
during a mid-afternoon cicadas call?
The cops stand still until they become
another of those aborted projects,
the last one of the lost.

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