IN SO MANY WAYS
There are differences in the clouds
like there are differences in the crowds
I see passing : a hundred faces a minute,
rolling by. Disjointed puffs or curlicue'd
coils. Swaths of rain-cloud, rolling boils.
Nothing stops, and it all keeps rolling on.
-
I hear the monkey man, singing his song
in the distant background of something else.
In fact, I hear layers. Sounds round the ears
like those clouds sound the fears of these
hundreds still waiting for rain. In so many
different ways, this day goes on.
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