Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #4                        Page 39
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As if I Were Death Himself

The picture shows two bridges,
spokes on a bicycle wheel
that traverse the river.
No open ground. Skyscrapers
interspersed with roads,
tenements, the odd tree.

The rest of the city lost in a haze.

Two barges, lazy, on the river.
Multitude of ant-sized cars
scurry through suspension
on their way to work, home,
lunch, affairs, the park,
perhaps the place
this photographer stood
as he pushed the button

this place that no longer is

        Robert Beveridge