Voices became magnified bat talk,
smiles became snarls
and teeth became fangs
after ten hours in the office.
So before I became a werewolf
I trudged to the pantry.
I peered out the window
and on this rainy day, I saw
a field with mole hills
stuffed with vegetations,
scattered weeds and tiny flowers.
And where the horizon met the sky
with a light blurry blue,
hills lined up like dunce caps.
Cars sped down rivers of highway
like coloured lightning,
and others parked in yellow boxes
peeped out of swaying trees
to pose as drops of rainbow,
if you squint your eyes at them.
Water boiled and I returned
to make a cup of Milo.
And the smell was as sweet
as the scene I saw ten stories below
Saturday, April 15, 2006
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