A cast iron sky stretched over uneven buildings

and streets where hats tip low and mannequins

resemble the living.

Quiet thoughts trouble the air.  Words

twist over the procession of long coats and

cigarette smoke; the hard walk of shoes demand

a path.

Shadows in corners whisper.  Curtains hold onto

voices, sharing secrets with water stains and idle nothings.

The winds improve with strength.  Hats and sand

lift into currents, pushing hair to the side

as collars lift and hands find pockets; cold air cleanses

the street.

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