Len Gurts’ Narcissus Variation MMMMLXV

Wandering, wondering,
around the city missing echoes, but not
the city—the one
that did wander: too bright

one is. Not so the other: I’d rather have

no ripples; I’d rather be under water. Though

I hope I am an echo? Just not

the biggest wave that crashed. But can echoes
glow?
I burned—seared skin—

of course

I wander the city alone.

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