The narrow sun hits me and drys me.
The incline of the city slope guarantees a coat of sweat.
The stomp and footfall of the public.
Their aimless stares to the ground or upwards.
the narrow sun obligates my hand to salute.
To parry the sun from taking my eyes
off the unpredictable concrete.
The narrow sun heats up the ground
and still touches us through the windows.
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