It came to me

It came to me
  on North avenue
   driving past music shops
     and liquor stores
          and candy shoppes
     and grocers,
  that all these wandering souls
     had eyes fixed to the weather,
                      to some lost dream,
             that was to be found in the heart——
          the center of their cosmos——
            some kind of mystic salve
       (a substance or person,
                     faith or dollar)
         that would wipe away all their debt
                          and all the dirt
                       and pain
                    and especially,
                              all the bad weather.

Their minds were bound to their escape
         and the body could not,
  there was the suffering inherent in their mindless search
         and they walk around
                 with ice-rimmed boots
          and liquor store loot,
     muddling with angry feet
          to the weatherman's beat.

What do you think? Criticisms and praise welcome.

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