The building looms behind her

Lurking skyscraper

From the top she’s invisible

There’s only the random

Rarely glimpsed reflected sunlight from her hands

Her bony hand full of coins

Her cane shakingly balanced between her legs

The woman is a hill

The cane a pole

Marking a flagless nation

The building is just another building

A reiteration

A detail in a pattern

The building is just a building

A giant with teeth white steps

Everyday everyway every time what is seen is what is seen

A building is a building

A woman is a woman

A cane is a cane

Except today the sign on the building says

The National Treasury for Retirement



A rusty bucket of haunted bog water. Occasionally a writer.

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