After amber, kept and unkept

Rain against the windshield, and past the wipers' sweep blurred taillights streak red along gray, unkept meridians measured in metronomic strokes, right to left, all in an oily smear, a pocked film dulling vision - a kept glimpse bleeding momently through an attic's fanlight window. I have it bundled in my mind, tucked away: the settled dust and chill, cobwebs looped from beam to beam, floating motes, and outside, the browning landscape, the neighbor's drawn shades, a gate closed and overgrown with weeds, the clacking trees and a thud downstairs ... Behind me, horns. The light is green.

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