Years One After The Other

It takes over, the silence of Spring’s final snowfall./I gather my limbs, as snow becomes rain;/ still a chance for relief/from a retinue on the boulevard./White flakes, manna on the Main Drag/cars pass in series/they crawl, they’re certain of their sameness./Bear witness to the window of the heavens,/handed over by the breezes;/admonish these airborne clusters./Apart from a dirge, foreign and deranged,/I keen in the park over familiar losses./Today I tumbled downstairs,/found myself still living, convinced,/ that cars whizzing past/are full of czars and assassins

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