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l
Cata ogue
I’m stuck in a mobile sea of sweat, spat
out after ten minutes into a fluorescent
cavern. I ascend to escape the stench,
greeted by concrete littering the sky.
Rubber scars asphalt; green, yellow, red
usurp gold; salt-stained, gum-splattered
slush carries fleeting footprints; glazed
eyes ignore the industrial assault.
The blue above protests: the heavens
darken, twilight loses grip of the ether,
the clouds weep, the rain wails.
I sprint to forlorn foliage.
The bark caresses my back, stolen drops
from green shade cooling my skin. The patter
mutes the urban cacophony. I tilt to
open my mouth: these tears taste clear.
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