Dark the corners down the alley, the pavement spins
as down the drain, the rain not helping
while you soak and run, a weight falls on the city
from above, as you point up and more abandonment pours down
you run breakneck until your lungs and arms in frantic
rhythm head your legs the wall and left
downtown the lights selling more slumber
as you tumble for a breath, you stop
to music that was never at this corner, not your kind of
bus comes splashing, what the sweet smell of confusion,
this exhausted minute when all scribbles talk to you, and
as the pulse returns, the calm once granted seems anew,
the scent of morning back, the poodles
walk their leashes free, the balmy bread
scheme as you once did, the city grid
of streets follows the map, and then the harrowing
trust of knowing what to do sits on your stomach,
and you forget to breathe, and look to groom,
as custom is in someone else's eye.

The End

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