Alone in a diner, it encloses me: rain,
as I glare down on the red-white, checkered tablecloth.
Looking at the window, I’m unwilling;
there appears nostalgia.
My soup in full humor to
blue lights,
on immaculate gray towers.
Leaves of solemn thought.
Alone in a diner, it encloses me: rain,
as I glare down on the red-white, checkered tablecloth.
Looking at the window, I’m unwilling;
there appears nostalgia.
My soup in full humor to
blue lights,
on immaculate gray towers.
Leaves of solemn thought.
Portrait of June 