There are no Hotels in Magnolia

whispers slip through silent trees falling from a distant breath falling on deaf ears accustomed to frozen sea/concrete echoes. ants disappear in the concrete. A distant breath descends my thoughts upended in the hot city shaken from a wintry dream. sweat drizzles as the city sizzles, even air has gone for shade.

[the reflection of a tree in a window across the street reminds me of a trip down south]
long lined asphalt
a gloaming for you and me
The trees are darker and a different green, and I am halfway to the third world.

the back in this world it rumbles with an eL gone by, only a little dream drifting in the eons of time
Dark eyes beyond the bounds of history should (silence) society be based solely in reason? Belmont street sleeves optional angles attract angles more attractive