too faithful to their own momentum,
too precious on steaming boulevards
scudding onwards untrammelled
by the men and meeting places
and women and tiredness of all
those decades in transit -
Dripping translucent keyhole to a pale core
whose hardness keeps the ice sheet whole-
hardness cowered by its broken glass facade
or glass cowered by its hardness
its billions of tendrils like nerve endings,
its dripping identity trail leaving
no trace once the droplets dry - never
stopping long enough to pool.
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