10-11

Buzz marks the burn marks

Gentile downhill curve suits sparks

Sandpaper pavement slows slalom

 

Ravens watch the sidewalk remain calm

Bustop wander with funny hats

Trash bags like a leash to a cat

 

Rubber burns slowly at the center of a pinwheel

I know not what between ten and eleven I feel

Sun birth hidden but real

 

October candles shake the dust from my roots

Jazz blows the sent of jasmine and bergamot over dirty driveways.

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