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Sunday 26 September 2021

Outside The Hairdressers

A slit, horizontal
Of blue, blue sky
Above the rooftops
Below the passageway ceiling

That view, restricted
Of emptiness, openness
Above this idea of future
Below that idea of past

My steadiness deserts me
I wobble like the smog
His holiness is thus set to be
I turn, as if a damaged knuckle