| On the edge of a curbside cliff
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| A red tipped cane
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| A higher pitch
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| A head canted slightly and straining for sounds of
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| Oncoming traffic while filtering out
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| Neighborhood kids / a Hey how have you been
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| A top 40 song / from an upstairs window
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| The memory of / dancing all night
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| The screeching of tires on streets unrelated
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| The windows of storefronts stand mute
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| I’ve felt extremities grow numb in the snow
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| I fought the insurgency then left it alone
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| My fireworks turned into shorter arms
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| But I still have my camera
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| Your favorite films / a good sense of style
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| Dinner and drinks / dancing all night
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| A stranger’s sheets / the crushing weight
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| Can’t find the blueprints start building the top floor
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| Lay tile, then brick, pour cement
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| If you’re not busy
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| We should get coffee
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| And take a walk down to the James one night
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| We’ll sit near the water, say nothing, till our heartbeats
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| Are heard louder than the gathering cars
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| In the city as the sun comes up
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| I’ve felt extremities grow numb in the snow
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| I fought the insurgency then left it alone
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| I’ve lost a lot of things that I used to own
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| An autobiography, the shivering cold
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| But I still have my camera |