Poem: Flight to Suburbs
How far away do we have to be and does it matter and who is watching anyway?
Flight to Suburbs
In some ways Prague is just a run
A conversation in the Club Car
A few will stay, lay back in hammocks,
Others shine their shoes and stand again
It only suits a few and city rats are city rats
And so it goes, this temporary cutting of the grass
This poem is included in
CORNER OF MY MIND
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