Bricks
that in the rain
Are
stained claret red.
Cocaine
powdered clouds pout
Across
a chalk sky of queue-ball blue.
The
wind traces it's kisses cold
Like
a girlfriend's October skin.
Sparks
of burned petals break
Into
a flirtatious surf
From
the oil-rooted
Muscles
of the branches.
Magpies
shoot flight-paths in the rough
Uniformed
officers mapping the grasses.
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