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Rain In the Streets
everywhere
stripped-down gargoyles.
a thirsty cubism
of the grotesque.
prophecies slicken the apathy of tar,
buff a phalanx
of windshield frowns.
yet the teardrop-warnings reap only scorn
while wheels scoot away.
wrangles of rubber and locked iron horns.
almost-invisible commuters shrivel to fret,
hunkered down in line-laden algebras,
afraid of the freedom in the sky--
could it remind them of their lost pulse?
the music of uncensored heartbeats?
now there are only secret desires,
prolific, yes, and yet as ignored as the rain.
they gush down into buried pipes,
babbles of hope that feed nothing:
dead ends, paper trails, time clocks,
the rooting snout of money.
nothing at all.
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9/6/25 ... flow mods
1/11/25 ... "snout" replaces "snouts"
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