Today

Today the mountains are cardboard cut-outs superimposed on artificial blue the muddy trees are merely silhouettes tainted green there is more litter on the railway lines the homeless man at the old school gates looks closer to death the park is overgrown, the dogs vicious the bright sunlight breeze stinks because today I’m playing the game of pronouns: she and I, not we; her and me, not us.

 

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