Average Rating 0.00 (0 votes) You must login to vote Assailed by the newness of things and pieces this old metropolis has to offer I pore each crack in the pavement the streaks remind me of Lolek’s gnarled hands hands mottled-twisted by earth I mingle with the swell jostle sun-kissed limbs pungent like pugon-baked bread in Grandma’s kitchen I watch as words sprout like flowers on a young girl’s cheek Here standing beneath pewter skies I taste something akin to joy…

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