poetry

forced anomie

moving slowly

through crowds

hobbled by abundance

an energetic loss of balance

a happy absence of comfort

 

unfamiliar details stare rudely

a cornice chipped and dirty

a door that doesn’t quite shut

window lead

neglected, maybe just unspecial

 

passing stores

charity shop says one

next, communion shop

and then Fine Suits

all selling the same thing

 

 

on  new streets

the small turns are

what get you lost

 

disoriented

thirsty

swimming

 

 

 

 

 

 

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