Joseph leaned against the hardware store’s outside wall, impatiently tapping his fingers. Its surface was cool in the shade of what promised to be another scorcher. He drew on his cigarette, then used the same hand to slide his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. His fingers trembled and the ash dropped to the dirty sidewalk.
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From Behind the Curtain
I see you through the light canopy that enshrouds the bed,
Your cheek a false pink from yesterday’s gathering of early spring blooms.
Sun shines bright through the window panes, warming the edge of your pillow.
