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People stand like reeds,

and move and sway.

To the wind:

They give way.


Unlike reeds,

which turn away:

this way and that,

and all throughout.



stand side-winds.

And through their sides,

motion comes out.



is a term I made up.

it is: wind felt as those pass you by.

So they can fly.

Station to Station

Somewhere underground

a train pulls out, skids along.

Nobody passes through anybody,

because that’d be rude.

People sway and lean,

like a bowl of jello grass.


On the trailway of tracks

that tunnels through trash-loads of trash,

the track-eater thunders.

And a woman sneezes in German.

She goes: “Ich, ich, ich, ich, ich, ich, ich.”

And nobody moves.

And nobody speaks.

Everybody waits.

Like traffic cones, wrapped in cellophane.

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