Pipes

none so lonely as the pipes
groping dully under streets
bubbling damp through groggy walls
wandering the city
rounded metal billow
weaving hem, looping for a passage
from feet to earth
eyelids of apartments
lost sluggish tubes
fumbling beyond the edges of mind
filling corners of the eyes
revealed to insomniacs
exhausted senile spouts
knowingly piercing the town breath
wisely avoiding sharp angles
overflow of culture

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