I run the risk
of duct-tape silence
upon broken grass lawns
that I dash across
in the dewy morning fog
the only buffer between
shattered shards and
calloused heels,
rubber soles and rubber souls
afoot and fleeting fast
gentle melodic tones
of four in the morning
forgoing ferocity
embedded in flowerbeds
that know they are fading
soon to fall to the ground
and shatter into a million pieces
refracting insensitivity into monochromatic rainbows
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