Thunder storms,
crazed lightening,
downpours,
nightmares,
intermittent sleep.
How different
the world appears
after such
a tortured night.
Grey, dripping,
bleak and dismal.
God must be
in Portugal
working
on his tan.
I feel like
a minor player
in some cheap
film noir movie
trying to remember
my lines.
Shooting starts
any minute now.
Damn,
who am I?
- mce
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