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The Street of Sun and Soot

The Street of Sun and Soot
Kay Flower

In the street of sun and soot,
noon had already past
but laughter was not yet late
as I long for the hour to leave.

There is an unspoken truth upon those stones;
am I Webster, Wharton, Todd or Tesla
and as I stand below my gaze
I’m melded with the doors,
the glass,
and displays,
making my form incomprehensible.

My own sight is blurred,
Yet despite my skill
I am reluctant to change.

The distance is what I see
and as I stand,
disguised and watchful,
someone watches back.

There is a boy I see
at the end of the street
where clear stones, salted smooth
are laid across the dirt
in an attempt to smarten
our street of sun and soot.


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