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Saturday, June 2

Saturday in Sunday

in the puddle over the gutter position
drain out the window acrid black rain spilled
forming all corners of the intersection
a partially sectioned bright lemon floats
half of it hanging of the other half, which half is the first half
no one knows or seems to care.

just the significance of it, or the unsignificance to think
it doesnt matter is to admit that people drive by or walk or skip jump hop leap
a little bit of lindberg in everyone, and yet, all the same fail to notice
the yellow on black, a pittburgh of fruit situation right there!

its right there!  its still there! who or when is going to do something about a lemon?

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