Painted pipes peel shades of bark and dust

Corrosion fills empty blank voids

Six stringed musicians play loudly to

Drown the crowded conversation

Paths of wood meander and hinder

The uprising of four-legged flat backs

Beautiful shapes of glass take the forms

Of various angels and harlots

Short and stout, tall and tense

Sticks with gold and legs of ceramic pillars

Captured dead framed with smiles

Relived past memories of tin

Congregated segregations of philanthropic throws

Life as we know it

Belongs to the youth


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