the brooklyn bridge trembles

all the immigrants are dying

those of the "new youth"

are dead already

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asleep at the wheel

the mandala careens thru space

no-body claims to notice

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"jus sittin here for awhile"
is all we can say

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the ole images are bleeding

the new ones have no meaning

we sit here an say

"we jus sittin here"

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slowly erased

the brooklyn bridge trembles

fornicating with strangers

we are all strangers