Odorless, tasteless, untouched city,
a distant wave-crest of space
about to break
over us, drowning out
the wail of a city
that shimmers with itself, seen.

The city is seen.
And the lighthouse city turns
on us what can be seen.

Looking looked upon
that we might see,
glances crash.
The city builds a beam

in the eye, thoughtless, painless.

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