Sunday, September 13, 2020

Night Street









Distant sound of pounding trash can drum circle. 

Exploding bottles. 

Later in the cab she said:  See, I can talk to you. 

Strange familiar wild stoop drifter. 

Fuel the ritual park fire. 

Dialing the soaked shoe line. 

Opening the numbered letter. 

Catapult uptown echoes off chapter street.

Looking glass gleam. 

Yellow night light sheen. 



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