Light refractions and milk dreams,
You slink our street in all seasons,
Supple ice, fractal sun, splintered tiles
There on your Citroen throne.
The road paves over a hollow,
A gossamer tarmac film
A suburban precipice.
Your hops from ledges arms laps
Trace a filament we follow.
Your movements aren’t blunder or whimsy.
The world turns for you on your car bonnet. We all gaze
And you save us from falling.
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