Worms.
the sidewalks turn into rivers
soaking shoes that smack the concrete bottom.
rosy-cheeked and bleary-eyed
you stumble next to me,
but my steps are meticulous,
avoiding the writhing worms-
pinkish but corpse-gray on their deathbeds-
a public drowning.
I would stop and carry them to land,
but you would make an ugly face
and say cruel boy things.
so i sacrifice their lives
for another moment of peace.
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