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my neighbourhood

there’s a black man walking with his two black Labradors, he’s not blind but blindness can be a blessing. White kids on their bicycles on the way to highschool, they’re still young and youth can be a blessing, messy as it is. The neighbourhood, last night’s tail of a blazing comet, I walk the trail of the honest, workers with their loyal dog in the back of a truck, trams on a two track recorder. The rooming house poet doesn’t rock the boat.

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