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Mar 142012
 

by Eric Zipper

 

Feel the fumes of city living

the train-rattle vibration of

loneliness in a mob

 

the trapped-in-a-box panic

of broken refrigerators

and unswept floors

 

the stifling desperate stench

of years of hate and garbage

recycled but not reused

 

the heel-scrape sound of boots on wood

as life happens above and below

in ice cube trays

 

that rare and perfect moment

when our breath syncs up

and the dirt beneath our feet

 

exhales at last