Urban Old Growth, 22X90, watercolor, Gary Buhler
*
You crumple this hat the way a hole
changes color, is held in place
lets your forehead hide, circle down
end over end setting fires -what you try on
no longer smells from rain or stays
or turned low in the mirror
remembers to burn in the open
as the sound falling from dirt
and broken loose though you walk away
just to walk away :a damaged toss
with less than there were
no longer over your shoulder or done.
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Simon Perchik