poem from September 95

here's one I randomly came across which I have not read at all since I wrote it and I will read it as I type it from the book, Here goes:

darting between the drips of rain
the wooden box skips
to the dirt road
beside the river
that speaks to the inabitants of
the wooden box in drips and splashes
telling the box to remove its clothes
and jump into the quietness of the
river and be carried effortlessly under
          the stone footbridge
          and the gaping black
          tunnel.
on the other side
the leaves keep dripping
and the box keeps skipping
down the river but
          the color
          of the light
          that falls
          from the sky
          has changed
          from dull yellow
          to bright orange
          and the woosh
          of the cars
          in the wet
          road can no
          longer be heard.

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