City Life Barter

I’m not willing to live,/just living it out,/in quiet honeysuckle hamlets,/ towns of moss and persimmons./I’d find myself sighing, in a sleepy business,/winks from my wandering eyes./I’m at ease in these stampedes;/at home with a centrifuge radio,/a crumpled kiss, a lunchbox sample, an item of mayhem, cups of joe. All tuckered out,/ from sharing warm streams in the snow/I ran right upstairs,/ past enemies floating mute, and solo./Whatever takes place, when it’s all over,/rag heaps blowing in the wind./This command to the eyes: stop tearing up forever, /it seems you are able to weep.

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