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April 2016, vol 12 no 1

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Aalix Roake

The Days Go by Without Me


I move through time at a languid pace. Nothing much disturbs the sullen peace around me except the very occasional phone call, usually my sister or a telemarketer. Everyone else has given up. I have become a living cliché of retreat and silence. Life needs a plot, like a novel. But my life no longer has one, nor do I want one.

quiet afternoon
grey gulls floating
in the steady rain


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