Pedro's Dream

I wake in a painted stillness
People bargain beneath the veil,

others slouch toward disease.
Everything is for sale here.

I know my way out, my stick
tapping against the walls.

On the river, a boat crammed
with young and noisy women.

The moon shines. They sway
to the tune of their own singing.

My oars catch and die
on the black top of the river.

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