The Reflecting Glass
I love the sound of the window when it rattles in the wind.
My brain is jostled
and I am transported to my room as an infant,
listening to the bumps and grind of the world from my crib,
without a care or worry,
trying to make sense of this place,
and the strangeness of passersby
who distort their faces in the reflecting glass
to make me laugh.
Samuel DiPaola 
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