just on dark, sometimes i glance
through the uncurtained windows
of the houses along my street: flickering
television sets, people sitting
at tables eating, drunken embraces,
the theatrical gesticulations
of men and women arguing
in an alcoholic twilight. i see
all these things - sometimes even
half-lovely women half-undressed
in silhouetted bedrooms and more -
but it doesn't matter what
tantalising extremes of humanity i see,
in the end i'm always glad to be walking
away from them and towards myself.
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The Aspiring Writer 33: William Taylor Jr.:
by Chris Lambert
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