Friday, December 25, 2015

a walk in some park in portland

water fell and flowed in a thin sheet like glass
like a wet razor, carefully controlled

pigeons remain unimpressed

a man threw biscuits to birds

well-to-do red blouses coming out of red doors
they said goodbye with gold in their ears

a pile of coats slept on a bench

(in secret the biscuits spell death
but only in rare circumstance,
the antidote was delivered in time)

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