pavement

concussion of alcohol

redemption
is a white cloud
floating over
a willow pavement

leaves
stroke the ground
like a priest
the same old sin
leaving welt marks
the prison bars
on skin

birds sing here
their joyful song
as if to be healthy
was something
to be happy of

now the tailors of wealth
are leaving their mansions
they drive away in limousines
to what conglomerates
maintain the elegance

what am I to tell them
if they were to ask
what were the clouds like
today