Bright bracing blue blows aways

the dust and the colic.

A multitude of its then the youse,

and burly business of the day

between standing desks,

open gyms and thousand-tapped bars.

“Why not chip-in? The suggested tip, the highest percent?

You can see all around where the tax dollars went.”

Life and breath,

native tongues,

the organic order of traffic and lines,

sustained notes in the firmament

arrest the echo and stymie decay

where pallid fugues once lingered

hints of future virtue play.