The city breathes.
The days are bright and the snow
breathes like the wild growths
of the jungle
except in the city where the jungle
is concrete and twisted metal
and
the night breathes hush-hush
where the lights glow happily out of
buildings a hundred stories tall,
a story from each window,
a man wishing to be home,
a woman wishing she could take a nice
vacation somewhere exotic:tropical
and
Atlas carrying the world,
the weight of the world on his shoulders,
looks in the plaza at all the delightfully
busy people rushing about
and
wishes he had time to rush.















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