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downtown bus (Free verse) by Bill Z Bub

snow unfolding in ashen window's reversal, the scourges of campus conspiring, with lurid smiles. cellphones cry like infants, cradled. single thin tones abandoned in the snow, and the U-girls get off at some club, tight glitterbright shirts over shoulders, healthy eeks of recognition and my scarf hides parched lips. now all I see is the relief map on the back of an old man's neck.

razorgrin 23-Dec-02/9:18 AM
that's the best cell-phone comment i've ever heard. the rest is wondrous too.




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