Light presses against me
narrowing
my field
of view.
I can't see
unless
with my hands
I form blinders
to either side of my eyes
to push away the light
pressing
against
me.
I need
to see the sky
starring
all the stars
born before
the time
of light.
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I am waiting for you. Where do you wait? In Florida with retirees? South along the Gulf of Mexico? All the way home to sunny Mexico? Is anyo...
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