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Attending a mille-feuille of sleeping bags,
daffodils. Here is where he lays.
Though this evening, there are no signs:
no knowing whether he is homeless still
or has gone home. Just daffodils,
gathered at his resting place. No cans,
cup of coins; no sympathy McDonald’s.
Only this small choir of yellow
grief – this shock of mouths in eulogy.
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