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Fog

Covid and forced farniente

While the fog washes over the waves of our streets
Catching light in its mantel, yet never entrapping we meet
The rays slow, muffled such that their depth be palpable
Straight through wooly eyes and swollen parasols
And the photons puff in mid air, face to face and time to time
The stars no more reach us, only the groceries’ neon’s grime 
And I unwind as the dragging void dressed 
In the textures of a long joyous breath
Floats above the tracks’ 
Frozen necks hums 
an ablaze tune from the 20th
Imbues its bloom where have broken my bricks
Rise on, there is no more horizon
But a deadline eschewed in mist
I can see clearly now, how  we’re woven
And I unwind as the dragging void dressed 
In the textures of a long joyous breath
Floats above