they wander, these souls,
these bones
in clothes and shoes.
disheveled
and confused, life is not
over, not yet.
but it seems that way
as they stagger march
off the bus.
how many times
around the lake can
they go.
how many ducks can be fed
with bread broken
and thrown
onto the shore. how many
days can go by
without a visit from
a loved one, making marks
in their soft minds,
they gaze across
the water, there seems nothing
left to know.
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