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Blown in like a cloud
of billowing pollen—

see how it carries on 
through the wheezy streets 

and spreads—the Autumn 
cobwebs hung

maniacal yellow.
Our bloodshot eyes 

and constricted throats
are stinging, sore with it—

it covers our windshields
and house steps—

so fine a dusting
children stop and spit—

scratch their names in it.