Wander’s Jargon

every street is a stranger

until it bears the weight of my presence

and it rings my echo

long after I learned how

to first pronounce it

the masses are swallowed

the signs are there to read

the writing is there on the wall

time scratched heavy upon its face

this cement river

concrete in form

endless in fluidity

calls me

draws me

to the next unknown

ah, this

this is my home

vaclávskí náměstí

february 19, 1998

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