back again
where the heart is, again
something I forgot, again
soul in wet-cracked concrete
folks who could give a fuck less
no needs for shades or screens
quick moving clouds, thick
deep dip in a coffee
sup --first thing's first
a real city
is lived in and died in
built of hard history
give me cold hard rock
steeped in vinegar
dreams are for sleepers
and nothing but, comes to him
who builds his bungalow on the sand
who plants grass where grass doesn't grow
who veins irrigation for the lawn
and preaches to save the world
while shitting outside his neighbor's door
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