a sepia-toned montage suspended in midair
no amount of tv movies or made to order documentaries
will erase the immediateness: the
smell taste feel
grit-encrusted nostrils
dusty tongues, babbling loosed of meaning, bits of sky crumbling
into upturned mouths
the street swallows, and the burning bitter ash
crumbled down throats
carrying unblessed belief
unrelieved by red cross water
Soon it appears:
desire will go homeless, irony become a dirty word
Skin still intact on the lucky ones
Mimeographed dots of black
and white
on the unlucky.
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