Pavements / by Ben Mars

They say pavements are the memories of mountains, 

Flattened and forgotten. 
Walking on the cracks, will still bring you bad luck. 

Trampled by old feet, young feet and dog feet. 

But beyond the sodium lights,
Above the orange spirals, 
of the city, somewhere, 
they still reflect the stars. 

And the ragged fox, 
Looking for food, 
On Ossian Road, 
Remembers.

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