It is a wind that

Would be called

A color

Named salmon

Over the back, a wide

Bladed axe

Is felt and still

I live in a shit town

Manicured as shit, sure

But manicured all the same



A new tendency for

Those leaving small

Groups to bundle into

Bent cars who crouch

I tried to call but I

Knew you were supposed

To be studying some things

You have no idea how

To get there do you


I have yet to find

A pair of shoes

That will make

These rocks underfoot

As hooves

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