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The poems of the lost souls

Friday, 21 November 2003

Street Sign
Street signs constantly carry there bulk of directional scenery.

Green. Blue. Brown.
Main. 2nd. Clifford Ave.

They cross but never touch, building infinite squares.

The gutters compliment the alleyways. The alleyways in turn sing the praises of the streetlight.
Heat. Snow. Rain. Cold.

The signs fade, and Willow drive soon becomes Will drive. As a whole generation of city dwellers often
and subtly ask the question :

"Who was Will?"

Maybe today the sign will be replaced with a war hero, or a famous golfer.

But who would notice?

A cul de sac.

ID copyright 2003 Shedrick Allen

Posted by moon/poetry4 at 4:56 PM MST
Updated: Friday, 21 November 2003 4:59 PM MST
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