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Jun 2018
From high above, we see streets stained;
Streams of modern life smeared lame
And stunted by screens which sneer.

Hovering, seconds we share - engage with
Even - Passive passengers hurtling toward
Destinations shared and (somewhat) known.

Talk turns to it. The state of it. What
It means. Where we are headed. And as I
Speak silently, the mirror mists.
A poem inspired by the view from a window.
Written by
James R  Venezia
(Venezia)   
161
     Fawn and ---
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