I'm not surrouned yet I'm
not quite dispersed enough to look there, waiting
for a guising ear to hear me.
Or listen to me.
--You ought to look, you know, if you're crossing.
And those words echo,
to this day,
under my breath, when I look both ways.
My footsteps weary,
and though cautiously I step,
I pray for one of them to hit me.
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