Stream

It is there all the time quietly flowing
Making a strange liminal hum inside.
You wake up to your abrupt dreams.
You hear a midnight ocean of sound
Before morning and the cars begin.

When an unnamed dog stops to yelp,
The machine whir of computer is soft
And the cricket goes home to sleep
You wish suspended animation stays,
You don’t have to flee down a mount
With cryptic messages about stream.

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