like ants swarming an anthill,
we stream across busy streets,
interrupted by red lights
and rushing cars, we only pause
a moment before our beige coats,
our posters wrapped up in cardboard
tubes, our umbrellas, our badges
hanging from our necks, we
stream from Moscone West to
South, up and down escalators,
into presentation halls and out
again, congregating and dissembling
again, into lines spreading across
the city and into our hotel rooms
to rest before another day.
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