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Deserted Street
There is something
About a deserted street,
That time of day
After five on a long weekend
When people are at the lake,
On the ocean fishing,
At barbeques or in their
Rooms with fans and
Air conditioners,
The odd car, a lone
Street person checking
Garbage cans for tins
And things,
A straggling tourist
Lost in a map,
There is something
About a deserted street
Where a black coffee
And a croissant
Take you places
You once were,
Places you might
Have been had you
Known better.
Stephen Nesbitt © . |
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