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Faces in the Sky

sometimes I feel

like a man in a fruit market

rows upon rows to wander


he’d been waiting for me

as I chose firm tomatoes, rosy apples

a quick sleight of his hand

adds a large blemished fruit


when you are born you don’t remember

places you’ve been

you take whatever is offered


later, looking in a mirror

you might wonder

about before and after

maybe you wish you could change things

but we can’t, can we?


so that

when skies whirl

fruit after fruit after fruit

and the fields, houses, the trees

shout and tumble colors at you


you could cry to the heavens

or scream with joy, remembering

rows upon rows upon rows


you could even cut off your ear

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© Johnmichael Simon



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