a.miriku.com

she's not here — the cat's asleep all sprawled out on the far side of the bed

young crows continue hopping about like it's not raining -- i shiver

kittens sneak across the border wall. don't worry gatos, i'm no cop

power went out here, so many alarms ringing -- electric frog songs

we die all the time, we die when we forget more than we experience

the construction workers and the birds went quiet, just rain sounds outside

fireworks meekly going off - like us they must follow their nature

a long line of cars wait to cross while sparrows flirt on the barbed wire fence

the pandemic stopped the cars but not the small dogs that need their daily walks

all the colors are orange, the smoke has even set the sun on fire

another batch of kittens outside oblivious to my cat glaring

each year the summer runs longer; i feel guilty for owning jackets

outside the twentieth story window a piece of paper fluttered by

the next door condo construction is stuck again, few more sunsets yet

wind carries voices, each year people march for change and the same cops watch

it will be hot soon, i'm cleaning the garage avoiding a dead roach

a spider sleeps next to my screen unaware twitter's scrolling by

the animals lie on tiles hiding from the heat, outside the grass dries

cold spring breeze pushes leaves and barely strains oak branches, suspended girl swings

a human caterpillar marching downtown, it's too hot to not hide in shade

gulls hover in fog, the ocean continues right into the gray sky

too late for jay songs, the ambulance is fading but the dogs still howl

ice cracks as we walk; i keep my hands in my coat cause i lost my gloves

a septal tear drop in september wind, squirrels ignore us as they work

no cars on the road, the stray cats keep strolling by on the fence outside

the rain brought a mud smell, a few meter-hours of europe in the west