written when he was drunk
he doesn’t like it now
its edges curled
trodden wet leaves
he takes a walk with umbrella
in ten minutes sees the marvelous
it reminds him of prayer
a great love, a missed flight
an arrow, a bed, a blister
his film is screened
once, twice, three times a week
he wishes he wasn't famous
several people watching
one gentle soul claps
one gets up and leaves
there's a kind of organ music
there's a kind of organ music
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