Rains

culvert

The rains come

And never really clean

The parking lots and streets

And driveways

Just carry things away

To unseen places

Far away, insensate pools

Oil residue

Creates a kaleidoscopic slick

Upon the water’s surface

As even more spills forth

Churning indefatigably from the culvert’s maw.

© Erik Hansen 2014

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Filed under Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

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