The crossing of shadows

marks street windows with

blurred reflections absent of color.

Quick steps and shoulders slip the

stream.  The sidewalk is a meadow

of shoes, turning, twisting, scuffed

and shined, all with purpose and

impatience. The people are a mix of

ragged granules; the sands of a city

shoreline on the move.  Eye contact

is absent.  The paths are rushed.

From above this mass migration

resembles a jar of shells tipped on its side

and rolling.

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