A kid found its loose pages
on a busy street.
He stopped bouncing his ball
to run after them.
They fluttered in his hands
and flew off.
He could only glimpse
a few dates and a name.
At the outskirts the wind
lose interest in them.
Some fell into the river
by the old railroad bridge
where they drown kittens,
and the barge passes,
the one they named "Victory"
from which a cripple waves.
---Charles Simic
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