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625 am

there is a place where the digitized vinyl gospel funk

intercepts the rumble of passing cars

and creates the most electrifying revitalization

sharper even than the razor blade air

running darting

from underneath far-off frosted leaves

on starch high branches

scraping my fingers and ankles

with ceaseless sounds that show

the bristled boundless scuplted green plane

how to dance

 

soon the sun loses its hold on tranquility

and leaps from the halos

of buildings and coloratura crowns of trees

painting the bustling scene with an overlay

of glossy jubiliation

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Written by
samy-ounon
American
Published
Oct 6, 2014
Lines·Words
16·89
Permission

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