For A Fellow Writer On Sidewalks and Obsession, Stream of Conciousness

Howling concrete incisions
in the midnight neon dawn
and what crowded bubbling decision
is written long on these
honest Wisconsin faces.

Unheeded their minds go by
my obsessing eyes,
judging and unjudging
with guilt enough to stack both sides.

Always the painter,
humans hum and tempt surmise–

and always the haters
we cringe and grope and cry.

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