to create a halo of
breathtaking gold,
as if it were the
second coming of May,
and the police lights spin
in the distance, where I
watch the window lights
creep on over the city
that we vacation to
every second of our lives,
only we call it home instead,
and they reflect off the
lake clouds to dim the
halo of my night.
There's something sobering
about the sun poised behind
purple clouds.
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