In a Hot Day

In a hot day I trudged asleep.
My body mumbled
for the smiling girl and our broken chances.

Why should I weep
as stones break into dust
and the day is broken by the traffic’s roaring?

Because I know and cannot prove
that she could love and did already love.

For her my life is shuffling, crying, pouring
fast into dust,
though I have friends whom I pretend to trust.

And yet the traffic smacks of other chances
(forgetting her the lost and smiling girl
whose memory enhances
this mending day) –

But it is dust I walk in, dust I walk in, dust.

In a hot day I trudged asleep.
I dreamt of the smiling girl but she turned away.
My body mumbled
for a day, a time in which to prove our love.

But the chances have crumbled.

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