Wetted, We Weep


Raindrops impair the city,

a liquid distraction.

A view of something unreal;

I watch the known as unkown,

a world in monochrome refraction.

A pigeon makes misery of my mapping

breaking the dark majesty

of washed away grime,

obsidian and silver running together

before gravity repairs;

a bird lies on the pavement

in a million captured moments.

Is this my city?

Is this what I came to dream, 

or just the residue of some madman’s nightmare? 

Who knows?

Who cares?

Not I, though I can’t stop staring.

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