POEM: Monsoon Blues

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You won’t find the Monsoon Blues in the sky —

the sky – such as it is – a claustrophobic ceiling, clinging to the tops of tall bridges and buildings.

Nor will you find those Blues in the rain-swollen bodies of water —

bodies of water, murky in the absence of penetrating rays and churned with flood detritus.

Walls and billboards, painted blue, will be inflected [perhaps, infected] with gray — the gray that permeates all.

Don’t look for the Monsoon Blues, they’ll find you.

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