A hard time he has of knowing

Our poet fantasises about dying
When there will be rain in Paris
And men in long overcoats walk

Ghost-like about their business
And it is now autumn in leaves.
He would actually land a road,

On strange footpath, on a head
In high-impact steel and stone,
A rainless suburban spring day.

A hard time he has knowing it,
As men in long overcoats walk
Ghostlike about their business.

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