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Poem 2

About

replace my cotton haze
in place, a silk rug you can wring
not a sheep that can sing

in my place, so common place,
waste

I’m better than ever 
hated thru december
but I’m thru now

Vagrant as a migrant
over mountains and conundrums 
over roof owls

my city was a storm
your eye of the ocean
saw me!

I can’t spell hell like you, see
I’ll never stop seeing the beautee