A day after the parade the streets are still littered with
bits of green, and high hopes for spring, glittering green, steamers and hats,
empty glasses, the cheer mere echoes in the distance, as the real world regains
its grip, and we all slip back into the day to day routines we can only momentarily
forget, few others along this street taking notices, already forgotten, as are
many of those of us who partook, this spring ritual lacking the maypoles around
which to dance, and those who we would still dance with, given a chance
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