Wednesday, July 19, 2006


Sunshine in the city,
glaring in my eyes,
bouncing off the sidewalk,
where the egg fries.

Somewhere every summer,
someone tries this trick.
Whoever eats that egg
should pour the ketchup very thick.

Gray haze up the avenue
and not so clearly you can see
what you’re breathing’s not too good for you.
I know that it’s not good for me.

Wheezing lungs and tearing eyes
leave me prey to every germ,
and as the years and tears go by,
leave me prey to every worm.

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