256.

All the cars from a
distance look like so many
scurrying ants. So

tiny and busy,
a microcosm of life
in an empty chase.

255.

The sky and sea, such
paired, sad overtures of the
finite ground between.

254.

The sun offering
a fading wave as the light
dissipates slowly.

253.

The town recedes in
the distance as the water
lengthens ever on.

252.

Settling anchors
in my throat, who's angles stab
me, all in your name.

251.

Choking stunted peace
from the empty bottoms of
all our ready pills.

250.

Here beauty hides so
mischievously in the dark
corners of ugly.