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Jul 2019
Chapped heels are clacking messy rhythms
as tattooed bikes dart through honking traffic.

A cop waiving his gloves, orchestrates the lights &
tourists riding in humid mustard cabs with bloated bags.

Resident pigeons fly in alphabetical patterns looking for a bite
while commuting rats scatter home along warmed subway tracks.

After every performance the soles clap and groupie tires start screaming at the ring leader welcoming people to the show at the stitched crosswalks.
Written by
NYC Eclogues
151
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