I thought it was you

I thought it was you
at the Golden Acre
where the beggar flaunts his torso
and the children their innocence

I thought it was you
on the Grand Parade
where sharp men play the glass bead game
with country boys in hats

I thought it was you
on the beach at Sunrise
where the spent and the misspent
take communion in the ocean

I thought it was you
on the train at Mowbray
though my eyes were tired
from the glare of dark men

and you, did you think it was me
on an underground somewhere
straightjacketed in a press of shoulders
surging towards the light?

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