our taxi driver is missing some fingers.
in his rear-view mirror
i’m trying to decipher
the language in which mosquitoes
have graffitied my face.

near the mountaintop
the water flows uphill.
the landscape obscured by clouds –
my self obscured by thought.

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About Vince Stephen

You can find information about me on my blog's "About" page.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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