Dry garden

Maybe when the clouds return they’ll see I’ve paved it over. Maybe when they fold and break and find the garden gone they’ll choke the rain. Maybe I’ll go thirsty in these streets without a rose to water but electric blooms and ivy vines to fruit an amperage humming cold in a mirage translucence coiling over shallow drifts of cable veigned cement. Maybe I’d precipitate a tear for something crumbled and ablated in the wind if all these walls would let the current through. Maybe all these clouds are mounting prospects of a harvest come to naught because in seasons past I’ve reaped too much of what I didn’t bother growing for myself.

#Amsterdam #Netherlands

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