between two bridges by the water
I ask the same
question
they say it is mist
rolling in from the sea
that turns
the sun—a moon—barely
makes an appearance today
even I
(with a clear conscience.
the crows on rooftops grow
impatient
we live beneath construction
cranes suspended in this mist
metaphor
moving words like packages
packages
of the dead
we do not speak just dream
and hope
(their faces waiting at the crosswalk.
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