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*kaleidoscope for passport photo*

Paul Siegell

the lunatic commute. the workweek cyclist. the west-bound pedal
past the National Constitution Center. the visitors of Filadelfia. the

latest sightseeing group led by the same Asian-American tour guide
I've seen all summer. the timing. the different groups he has to tell

the same things to. the open umbrella he walks with. the sun. the
coach bus I never see. the Arch Street traffic. the asphalt. the other

commuters that keep me pedaling close to the concrete curb. the
sidewalk I'm not welcome on, but this morning it calls out a lost

green passport. the brakes. the backup. the shiny gold calligraphy.
the thot of swiping it, biking away. the souvenir. the no. the about

face. the tour group almost a block away, headed to the pennies on
the grave of Benjamin Franklin. the unexpected cyclist. the "excuse

me" and "Excuse me" and held-high passport. the cluelessness if
it was even one of theirs. the "ohhh" and commotion of words I

couldn't understand. the points from the group. the here-you-go to
the guide. the alright and nod of my green Phillies hat. the bike

away, on to work and my 31st birthday.

Paul Siegell

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