Untitled (breezy cold)

Untitled

from Strays

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breezy cold,
and children running

one after another in a street full of skyscrapers,
the sun rising

somewhere on the wing of a plane,
a one-winged

bird on the head of a god
in the plaza

goodbye
from the pain of my body,

my father patting
the cushion next to him

in the air,
come

sit