At Albany, the day is done;
The rabbit glows: an emerald sun
spraying sparkled frozen foam
onto the glass
the paint
the chrome.
Here, the neon-knuckled stare,
entangled in the Rabbit's snare.
From the puddled pools of night,
steel-belted souls
now splashed with light.
Deep inside, somehow I know
that hopes die in this hazy glow
of loneliness.
The miles have caught me here, you see
quite suddenly,
at Albany.
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