A poets thought


As this city is the world

I feel it is the poets duty

to look at the streets

as the historian looks back

to when this city was a town

Me, I feel, certain things

From ten, twenty, years ago

& I know, I feel

when hair is white

& eyes are broken

I'll have no choice but to think of my life

as a town before it was the city

trashed, over populated, rushly built

by wine, galleries, love, guilt

all stolen from this city

that is this world

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