THE CORNER

On a nearby corner people

gather like twisted vines, listening

to street rhythms and sidewalk music.

Standing there was a rite of passage,

an image statement of you.

It’s where passions are formed and spirits

blend, where names have value and

brotherhood reigns.

The traffic is a language in motion. A sound

familiar and expected day and night,

pressed over concrete and tar where

the corner becomes a stairway to the

center of the world.

 

 

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