STREETS, STREETS…
Them perplexing
Amazing, them split
With undulation, straight
Subtlety I surmise never
I imagine them being a tureen
Surly, yet full of solace
Damp with superfluity of morals yet unethical
The oracle of skinflint, love, joy, sobriety, thrall…
The streets are a Victrola always wheeling
Its LP ever skipping
Different skip each time
A skip for each street wanderer
Wait for your turn to dance!
Trod!
Them streets are vile
Vindicative to no Virtuoso
Swarthy yet no suave
I like unkempt and never punctilious streets
Cold in the night, damp in the summer
A welcomer of tempest but never tremulous
Oh I wallow my streets!
Gabriel Lapus-Copyright(2007)
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