tea taints lip of
paper cup,
mist like incense
ribbons drift
from thoughts-
the yawn that can’t
be stopped,
in blue shade corner
coffee shop.
a pumpkin
smile,
gent tilts his
head,
as if his turn
in game,
on chipped tooth bench,
lunch clasped
in palm,
cloaked in
trees,
shaded by
leaves,
knows not where
he’s from
or how he’s come
to be..
so infant-eyed
and free.
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