"June" A section of a string of poems written on a handrail on a bridge.

Sweat sweet with mid-day summer sun. Skin burns red to blister. It permits no resistance. Insistent on shining. Eyes squint for shadow. All to rare in this lonely atmosphere. Rarer breezes blow to tease relief, But all this provides for view beyond belief. The city erupts in the Sun's Rays. Reflecting infinite daily cloud-play off Glassy faced behemoths. Every ripple sparks diamond waves. And sometimes this place doesn't seem so bleak.

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