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Poetry
(rd king dot net)poetry and digital art
American Summer
Poems written while traveling.
Mojave Pit Stop
In a sweat and angry I awoke at an ancient gas station in the midday heat of Mojave. With a stiff neck and my temple creased from the window's edge, I opened my eyes to a familiar denim-clad blue moon and a small hand holding a nozzle. She was adorable at the self-service pump. And I knew, at last, that we had been promised this many times during the time we spent as children—as being the end of that time, as being the end of that dream in which I walked next door passed the faded advertisements on the brick wall of a liquor store, and feeling like a recipient, bought us a couple of root beers. back | ToC | next » 1986
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