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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Release the Hounds

pondering the sill

draft


I remember
the paint peeling
from the top of the third floor dormer
too hard to reach
white, dry, and falling
slowly to the asphalt.

My brush is clean
still, and bucket empty

The sun, setting earlier
leaves little time, until Saturday
to fix -- and then
my ladder is rotted
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