breathless 2002

poorly woven helmet
and rubber smelling horribly
on thatched mats
barely obscuring
holes in the road
most taxpayers casually deny.

never known flooding
as footage of those submerged
beneath black waves
played on our screen
and neighbors said
that I was lucky with a flat backyard.

scabs on thin skin
spreading with belated apologies
for hourly itching
that cast off tea bags
and handfuls of ice
when superstition supplies itself meekly.

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