Striding to the bus stop,
A child guided by his mother pees upon a garbage can.
Striding into work,
A disgruntled protester holding a tattered sign demonstrates against the medical community.
Striding into the Rockefeller Library,
Dancing Liberians present the studious with bagels.
Striding through Central park,
A spinning violin playing guru topped with a feather sings within the Arcade, while Cyclist’s adorner in technicolor knit outfits peddle about.
Striding to my apartment,
A pink shuttle whisks its passengers off to Sin City.
Striding off to sleep,
I wonder why it’s been such a slow day.
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