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The Peacock

A dusty road
Sticky with heat
On a morning in slow motion
The air moist and sodden
With fire molecules
Wrapped around me
Which on the dirt path of dust
Contributes to the heavy day.

Yet all is not robbed of motion
For a curious creature emerges
Strutting down the road
As a movie star would a red carpet
Straight from Hollywood premieres, a daily routine
Right at home, above the general populace.

Every eye he owned betrayed him
Betrayed the thousand-eyed creature
By showing him a king’s palace
and a cheering crowd.
For little did he know
That he was a commoner
On a common road on a common morning
A common morning
Sticky with heat
Dreary and slow
Like a car moving less than one mile per hour.





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