“Mist or pollution?” I ask
crossing the murky morning bridge.
My friend shrugs. “Both.”
Cross the bridge or not – we’re a part of it. 97 more words
3 months, 2 weeks ago
Just a moment.
Take a break right here to break it.
Shatter it, in fact. Sweep it up,
grind it to dust underfoot and blow it… 102 more words
Ride the zebra across.
Blur your pasts and futures into the present.
We barely recognise those next to us.
I know you, but not this street or its language of… 127 more words
3 months, 3 weeks ago
The roofs slope the same way
sliding up like ski ramps to the sky.
Old and new. Older and newer.
Their same ambitions and fates… 133 more words