The Dancers
 
Somehow a stack
of evening papers
has fallen off the truck
and scattered across
the intersection 
of 31st and Blair.
Loose sheets dance
between lines of cars
in rush hour traffic,
swirling to the left
then to the right
oblivious to everything,
moving in unison
slow and stately
the way dervishes do.
Till the lights change
and cars stop
just long enough
for each sheet
to spiral
out of control
and the blissful
choreography
to collapse--

 

 

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