Walking past,
wide berth I give you —
anonymous in work, you semaphore:
snazzle snazzle fizzle crackle
a blue monsoon
aceteline arc —
faceless brown god of storms you linger
in vestment hazard gear and curls of fog
as I continue
up the steaming sidewalk
past the hot-oil clank and tang of the machine shop
beneath the raucous gaze
of two crows who haunt the campus.

[Written by anonymous.]