Sobered by winter you crossed streets, finicky
Muttering untruths under your moustache, absolving
The wind with your cheeks ridden by tears

Unhappy and generally unclean, spotted
At dingy late-night coves of country liquor, praising
The keeper for his honesty and laughter

You dispersed into many beings and fit nowhere,

So much for staying alien, a city’s problems
Tied to your ankle while nails rust at your crucifix
The kites encircle meat houses at noon screaming
At you when walk past blocking the sun from your years


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