Riding my bicycle;
Jasmine scent in the
moonlight,
sharp and heavy,
where the gliding
air changes from
warm to cool.
An open window,
domestic drama,
I stop and watch.
Is this suspect?
The moon escapes
from the clouds,
and suddenly I
feel naked,
like the world
can see me.
The street is numb and silent,
but for a man who's
stumbled home and
shouts at his wife.
A little girl cries.
"Why can't the world hear?"
I ask myself.
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