Wednesday, November 26, 2014

OUR TOWN

Truth be told—
it might 
just have been all of the

murky gray light—
circumscribing each subsequent

frostblurry
sight—down years of westward narrowing
long streetside 

edges—
of such 

hulking slate 
colored knit clothes—of
puffy blue navy
and mustardbrown
downstuff swathed figures

each marching silent
clockwork onward—

solitary—larger
than life;

that—eventually
provided the 
least troubled berth—

the the whole sort of now-
mythical
big shoulders idea.

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