No one smiles in the skyways--
though I suspect they are communicating
happiness and hope,
“I love you’s” through text messages
that sweeten blackberries,
make iPhones about the “me’s”
under the fancy clothes
we woke up early to iron--
the tie that weighs heavy in the afternoon
or until coffee is gulped
(or until the girl with coffee-colored hair
notices it).
A story above the sidewalk,
it’s too easy to sink into
a place where stories don’t live.
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