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Oct 2018
Like delicate floating
wafts of incense puffs,
this place is ephemeral,
temporary, a minute
waiting for the 6 train
downtown warmed
under wool sweater,
wintered hat, patched
jacket and stranger bodies
pressed, confine, familiar
a city this may seem
is imparted rare
impressed reflections
once and only
through the me
of now, the 6:30 am
no coffee, cold
as bone new york city
person I am
this only morning.
Chase Graham
Written by
Chase Graham  DC
(DC)   
  229
 
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