Montreal
by Tessa A shackelford
Monday, July 22, 2002
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Orange again.
Nothing changes.
We cannot escape.
She had her vengence pured
Upon her fleeting children.
Though the rains and
Mountains slowly died,
The orange followed.
The orange,
Stalking me in the night blackness.
Orange light upon the
Black waves.
Orange mist.
Orange-black.
We can never
Escape. |