Fleeting

The problem

with living in the city

is

there’s always someone doing

what you are doing.

There’s traffic

all through the night

and you

are never the only one

up or out.

 

Well, maybe once.

In treacherous wind-chills,

my visiting brother and I

trudged to the edge of the park.

No people were there,

but through half-closed eyes

we saw

three does like a vision,

shortly, and then we went home.

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