I walk,the lush hour
upon me,
past corpses
half empty with souls
moving like atoms
along paths
carpeted with gold
leaves, ruddy
and decaying,
in the cold
of autumn’s breath.
I look down -
I see shoes
scuffed at the toe,
cheap Asian cloth
woven to suit my job.
My tired eyes recognise
what the adolescent me
would not
this future man.
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