The one perfect thing

in the corner
where the buildings meet
is where the wind dives in
to swarm
and spiral in
a reel.

you only know that
because the tattered
blue plastic
jumps and skates
to the left
and the crumpled
kraft paper skitters away
to the right,
both fettered by an unpredictable swirl.

the one perfect thing
is the tumbleweed branch
pushed along
by this dervish
and goaded into rolling away.

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2 thoughts on “The one perfect thing

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