FINISHING OUT

Sounds skipped over the gathering

like flat stones over water.  There was

no right direction of movement.  Fingers

pointed.  Eyes glanced.  Footsteps clapped

along equally out of sequence.  The people

resembled tall willowy weeds reacting to

a brush of random breezes, swaying

unevenly as they crossed the street to the

other side; searching for closure

from a day’s work.

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