The sign on the street corner served as a warning
To the leaves that rustled by the empty grey reflection.
The leaves can't stop though, and drift by, indifferent
The gunmetal post seems quite perturbed by this casual defiance.
A sin this writing! Screamed the editor!
He tore the pages limb from limb and vomited.
Mostly because of the limbs that were now in either hand
The words smokily curled in his head, and he lost all memories.
He was much like a sad teacher grieving with friendly remorse.
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