THE PESTILENTIAL FOG
The blue iron of the bridge is a scaffold towards
another world - reaching out of this one, surely.
Lines of people crossing : we call it transport; the
human medley blending. 75 years ago, this was
all briefcases and tophats and dark faces looking
downward - or at least just straight ahead.
Now, it's the babble of the rabble, and a million
faces yapping the yelp of the maw of the being.
So many messages, and how many misconstrued?
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