you want to get out of the sun
like a garden snail retreat into your shell
but all the doors are shut
and you're melting onto the sidewalk
their refuse is your cloak
your camouflage
no one sees you
as you slowly dissolve
you wish you could fly --
to hover at chest level
so they'd collide into you
and maybe notice
that staring back is a face
just like any other
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