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Driving at twilight.

Under the fading wing of cloud,
under the lemon-slice moon,
I almost take down
the stick-leggèd runner
and her dog who outweighs her,
as I look for cross traffic
that wasn’t, but might
be there.

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Comments


  • Empty.On.The.Inside
    July 6

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    I like this. I feel that the poem did not end the way that I expected it to. I think the your poem has a really good beat to it that makes it work well.

    Great job.