I dreamt I lived in Boston and said to myself, “I have come to live in a place of cobblestone streets with sun rising at the top of hills met by slices of blue sky in between brick buildings, where I am brick too.”

Yesterday a blue wasp flew circles in the office building where I alone worked on Sunday, blue too.
Later, walking home at night in the blooms of snow that blew under streetlamp, I danced across the bridge laughing at my bliss and at anyone who would think to destroy it.

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