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early morning avenues
reveal the fragile-
before they hide away
to their shadows and bleak shelters-
the tourette lady screams out good morning
to the cripples and the homeless,
i can not meet her eyes
ignoring her and them into non existence
i count the concrete cracks
and look away, deaf to her braying-

we are all limping to somewhere else
where we can be alone-
safe and blind from each other
uneasy in this morning twilight
reminding us of our secret fear-

we are all a drop away from breaking…

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