of drizzle and memory, and how cars flow by just like a river

rain
drizzling in plain
sheets over the
asphalt where
so many sophisticated
cars rattle and run
almost amok

the sounds are
muffled under the
drops of so much
water running
across the windowpanes
and so i forget
how, when and where
i’ve seen your voice

the river of cars
all numbered, flows
on and about
this autumn, too
far into the past
for us to remember

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