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The Night Watchman

morning rescued him from the night, he stood in the doorway of the fridge, the bulb within sent forth a wan light his wrinkled skin had the morbid tinge of a graveyard caretaker's pallor, pale as a crumpled paper plate; the cold breath of the fridge cooling him, he smiled, started looking for a beer that he knew pretty well wasn't even there, searched for a frozen ham he hoped he had forgotten deep in the freezer, wrapped in a crumpled paper plate.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2007




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things