Would that it should come to this
The tingle of the ill fitted skin
Rattles of roughened blood
Always at the junction
By the flat stood toes
The battle of
Does it matter anymore
Or
Fearful of misrepresentation
The footsteps on the shore
The blue sky with shiny
Silver cloud
Morning
Of sweet separation
Of what I could not know
The loud exhaust
And skin tight muffler
Laid, by who knows atop the radiator
Always at the window
As by the fast flood goes
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