Now, I see how large this place is.
The placelessness is almost too big.
Me and these ghosts make good company.
The chorizo finishes.
Eggs and a bottle of white
Microwave hood fan
Time to cut meat from casing.
An unused balcony.
The window with the looking-glass.
The other window that is looking-glass.
I drove the perimeter of a street festival.
People formed a line at the
Automatic Teller Machine.
I could have walked for my eggs.
But, the milk would
Have gotten spilt.
I arrive home.
My salt is gone