I told the world,
but the world didn’t need telling.
I told the world:
to clean up the unsightly trash,
take small moments to pick up the bags,
the bottles, the furniture, the junk,
the scars on the path;
but the world lay silent.
I told the world:
to dull the tones of penetrating light,
irradiating from bulbs and boards,
from streets and homes,
from skyscrapers untoward;
but the world persisted.
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© 2013 Peter Gillespie