Struggling, subtle dreams of circumstance –
A quibble to scribble
Pretty words with no color.
Grey weeks on the calendar
With nothing written there or anywhere.
Grey numbers on the adding machine,
In between dreams –
Eleven (or heaven) (or the price tag) is one kiss.
Pay in spit for the cashier’s attitude,
Grey as the gutter and
Clumsier than ‘cumulonimbus.’
Wednesday is the bleakest sort of palindrome –
A mirrored image Scotch-taped together.
Remember the weather or regret such forgetfulness;
Snow or piles of pencil shavings?
Grey, the erasure –
Undo the staples and shuffle the pages.

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