Just in through the gates, just in from the streets.
Afternoon. No sun and few clouds. Mask still on.
Hands dry and cracked from the cold.The jangling of bells and beating of drums
overheard from across the green.
A bitter autumn taste on my tongue, the scent of mulch,
footsteps echoing off concrete.Then among fountains and towers,
lawns and fallen leaves. Yesterday evening,
life coalesced in rain: dripping streetlights, storefronts reflected
onto glossy black pavement. Liquid incandescence.

But now I’m avoiding familiarity. Looking for the undiscovered.
Through untrod quads with unseen trees,
through unwalked buildings soon to be torn down.
Over a thin, imagined layer of snow.

Towards home.

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