Cold

You now have this cold in the head.
Your night is stretched out before it
Like distant sea’s hum over a sleep.
Unending it hums between your ears
Like voices mum heard in last years.
You  have caught up with the  voices
As nose just runs  a canal on bridge.

The forehead is  as molten summer
And you see the voices of last years
As  chimeras evaporating on tar road ,
The road makers in vaporous gloves.
Things are a vapour of voices heard.
You are nearly there in the chimeras.
Rubber gloves melt in  day’s  vapour.
.

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