unnoticed
in the rush
where leaves
find their final
resting
not because of any
higher
consciousness
or new awareness
but because the
hillside
is just steep
enough
to keep leaf
blowers
and their gassy
assholes
off balance
confined to
manicure
the cushy few
in the suburbs
a couple of
squirrels
shift and chase
their tails
through the maple
leaf beds
their playful
softness in the brush
is an
illusion
--- e b bortz
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