Slush
is only troublesome
when
feet dare to invade it:
smushing
up involuntarily
to
flush into interstices of shoe,
its
vulnerable tentative integrity
is
crushed into innumerable
anguished
icy tears of existential
rue.
Some moral here appears,
we
fear, to shed a new grey light
on
you and me and you.
Although
we don’t fear it
too
much. Mostly we were
looking
for more rhymes
for “shoe” and “rue.”.
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