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I Think They Are

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What would you do if the streets were empty?
Sometimes I like to imagine
That the pink-crested purple clouds who
Extend our known horizon
Could be mountains in their own right
Could unfurl as kings in plain sight
Whose robes spread still afar
I think they are

What would you do if the streets were empty?
Sometimes I like to chase
The receding sun replaced by street lights
My crown of flowers
Could be combed through by fingers of wind
Could be I, a weed, just as lovely within
Dandelions, how beautiful and bizarre
I think they are

What would you do if the streets were empty?
Sometimes I like to think
That we would all come out and warm our feet
That the half-melted asphalt and hot concrete
Could join our hands above this ground
Could bring convex hope to a concave sound
All saints, molten and far
I think they are.



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