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Collected Poetry
(rd king dot net)poetry and digital art
Salmon Cannas
Prose poems.
Take Out
It was cold. The storm passed and already the pavement had started to dry. I saw you standing on the cement walk beside the gas station restroomin a flurry of light. You were wearing a big coat. You were searching in your purse for something I did not think you would find. As I drove by with the take-out pizza, the gas gauge near empty.
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