Noone sees it
It's not real for their eyes.
It doesn't seem true, it seems a lie
Fiction painted into pavement like a shrine
A hat and a mut sorcery disguised
shrugging off the harsh sunshine
That energy living in the tree trunks
and ground's hard lumps
Yes indeed a fiction yet one that persists
More than what anyone believes exists
Only deep wonder that pools invisibly over a city
Not tangible embedded into street lichen
uneven shady and gritty
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