feeling nostalgic for some
group soul as a way of
evading homelessness
like the violinist in the subway
a great artist who once a month
turns up unrecognized to play
for free for all the millions really
who pass this way hurrying
to work hurrying home
hardly listening
but I forgot how classical
the subway can seem
hurling you through
the underworld you
repeat initiate
no such thing
as alone.
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