them to crowd round in tweed
with the buildings soaring
like ground-bound falcons
against the sky
man--I'd like
to touch hands, man
I'd like to clap shoulders
to walk through a crowd
and hear the voices
clasp my ears like fingers
on a forearm
man--I'd like
to stride across a green
like I owned it, to stomp
across a street, like the beat
of the cars, was echoing
in my legs, man--I'd like to say
I own this, and it owns me
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