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October the air smells of rain and is a perfect grey the sad old buildings lean against it a beauty you would have to see to understand today my sadness is bigger than Jesus but there is a joy even in this a quiet bar on Polk Street something to drink and a table by the window outside the people seem to have places to go the cars roll up and down lights flash green and red and I could never find it in myself to strive for more than this never dreaming to be anything other than the sky or the smell of rain. |