tired I'm going to look up words
as coins in the pockets
that I smashed.
And as I walk
I grieve plan
that the shoes
I have holes in them.
So I leave a Following
phrases and torments
roadside
sprinkle of rain.
I wonder if one day
at a crossroads white
you stoop to look
a broken tumbler.
wonder com'avrà gl'occhi
seeing your smile
wonder if he has words
still in the pockets
or if the shoes
will of the tanks.
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