speed bumps hold thru traffic
like state fair lines
before Garth Brookes broke bad
"anybody need pharmacy?
anybody just here for pills?"
The child riding two carts up
plays mama like a top,
drops a bright green
hollow piece of plastic
artillery, cries
her out of an i-phone reverie.
she picks it up
and picks it up
and picks it up again.
a burst of sun off a bald man's
cabeza
(who could be many bald men)
produces what seems to be
soul beams bursting from within.
this cues advancement.
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