SHUSHU and SWISH-PLOP
go the skirts of
Panamanian street vendors.
Details lost in mayhem
and thoughtless repetition
Scratch-plunk of the spade
in sandy earth
gold bars in dreams buried
stolen
hopping fences like cracks
in the sidewalk
And somewhere,
in the wool sweaters
of Ohio,
a melting pot
gets the girls stoned.
Speaker. Triangulation.
Fist soft against brick.
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