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Collected Poetry
(rd king dot net)poetry and digital art
Diesel Eddy
Book three of impromptu trilogy.
The Evening Light Crossing Paths with the Young
Our parents suggest we are less than disciplined as if saying that would be a thing we could obfuscate into something else largely audible. And what, in return, were we to say: a pack of dogs pissed their way down the street; a woman stopped us for a cigarette; and, it was truly warm. The sky was blue and the stoplight red where we suddenly waited. What was the point? That night we walked barefooted beneath obscured constellations to the pier's end; we met some girls and saw that tucked in darkness near the highway a bathroom door was left open and still lit. back | ToC | next
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