STREET NOISE

 

Words become a watershed, the

express of desire, a fountain draining

to the ground, forming streams of release.

 

The engine of day caresses the eyes as they

mirror the images of streets and voices crowding

into fast lines.

 

Hats hold close the thoughts, while hands

point or find pockets for rest.

 

The day compresses into a flatness of

bland colors as dusk merges with street lights

and shadowed faces.

 

 

 

 

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