Thousands of Solitudes

by Matt Spence

With a strange exuberance
falling eyes ducked into a
serious redbrick saloon
dropped neons go
horizontal clinker.

Continue on weird sidewalks
with Cadillac mouthpieces
going thoughtfully
downtown. Night blasting
bop- contemplative history-
dark hours of man
complex dignity of

Straight waves
curb alley sax
cool sharp joints
birdlike buildings
flapping going beautiful
instruments writing-
lovely hordes
and thousands
of solitudes.

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