Gutters
there's a parade -
there's always a parade
years piling up
against the barricades
held in a loose and tenuous grip
by a thousand failing men
turn corners
turn calendars
turn channels
and keep your memories
in technicolor if you wish,
for the nights you cannot count
are forever black and white
filled with forgotten teenage boys
turned grey by middling age
and left to clean the debris
of abandoned fanfare
littering gutters
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