reptile, basking in the sun,
warming his pale winter skin.
Wood and knotted wood
and nails—all just scraps
really—placed here
by his own two hands to just sit
and enjoy a cigarette, a perch
to watch the clouds saunter along,
a nest built of two by fours
and dresser drawers, shipping crates
and red barn doors, overlooking
warm afternoons with water vapor
gliding towards the northwest
and the cars rumbling
back and forth
beneath him.
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