Wednesday, April 20, 2011

of words and windows

Your eyes are stained glass windows.

Your words shoulder past lampposts and brick walls,
trip along the cracked concrete, their chins tucked into their overcoats.
When they left your mouth this morning, a low cold fog hung over the city
but they were happy to fill up the streets, joining the wandering words
of the tens of thousands of other voices that speak this city.

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