Eleven on the Wind

You can hear bells if the wind is
coming from town. Usually at
11pm when there’s nothing else
to do, but count to eleven. And

eleven is disappointment,
somehow lacking in clout. Like
there should be whoops and
hollers. Maybe streamers and
a live band in your bedroom.

So you’re awake now. Waiting.
For twelve of course. You might
sleep through one, but not twelve
where it’s placed. No.

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