Leaving Union Square

on a pedestal, the fairy
in silver suit
blowing notes through a silver flute
raised on stone
embracing crowds with
her airy notes
she is the poet
deconstructing moats
placing clumped earth beneath
our rubbered soles
ten blocks I walk buoyed
the warbler’s song
crossing fields imagined on
pavement’s throng
melancholy simply too slow
to relearn
the heredity of mechanical worlds
so going loving
what I don’t already know
the grips along Powell road
financial districts the vale below
tapered monoliths secreted by
multiplied window
sounding city of gears and hauls
shrouded in mist
the tender thunder bolt
within my chest

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