Sunday Nights in Mount Pleasant

Are a thrifter’s dream:
lost syllabi washed up
on the curb with a panoply
of mismatched silverware and some
custard glasses, a dismantled
record player and a stack
of faded restoration magazines —
the surprise of
warm air, still,
like the smell of
laundry through a vent,
the warblers and
nuthatches, the late-
day light taking up
residence in some
clean, white room.

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