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Another Little Free Write

Wait. For. It. 7:03
Switch 'em and its through.
Then I can surf around street corners
On two wheels
And make traffic shake their dirty fists at me.
Angrily. Like drivers do.
Like drivers do.
Slumped forward over leather wheels
Like melting clocks in a Dali
Cutting creases
Deeper in their brow.
Cutting corners.

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