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Outside, the dark clouds move slowly

A commercial ends
A million toilets flush
At once

Everything is supposed to
Be silent--except for birds--
Because nobody is really
In a city
Everyone is an alibi

At home, the dust holds
The forgotten morning
Sun

The carpet is red
Smells like church

Down the hall
A janitor steps on
Yesterday's piece of gum

And outside the snapping
Of millions in fortune cookies.

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