Shadow Living
A city full of cars going round and round
driven by ghosts wearing tired imitations
of expressions of those of the living.
In the rear view mirror I look the same,
a shadow falling through the urban smoke,
a replaceable part, even to my friends.
Coal smoke falls with the rain like thick depression.
Clouds on all the horizons on an early afternoon,
but it could be night. It is in my head.
The coal smoke stains my touch.
I leave dark smudges on the vinyl wheel.
I think I’ll drive with my eyes closed.
It might wake me up.
Page(s) 90
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