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Townie

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Droplets,
falling sound waves
through the atmosphere.
My step erases them in the puddle.

I’m walking,
just walking.
Down Main St. I spy a woman hurrying
with her Barbie pink sweater soaked.

Walking on I see a little boy jumping
in a puddle like it owes him money.
I see Ms. Potter opening her store,
early morning sun making the vases

turn the floor into a calico sea.
Street sweepers muscle by,
their brushes forcing society
into my lungs.

I pass the river,
it swells like a mosquito
biting into a vein,
sloshing over the banks as

an overfilled mug, it
races to an undefined finish line
and I feel I want to race too.
So I run


to the convenient store, and we race.
I sprint rivers rushing down my face
while he runs beside me.
Break lights egg us on,


but still there is no winner.
Coke cans gleam on shelves like
rubies and I buy one.
Sitting on the steps I sip quietly,

Listening and learning from the river’s babble.
It talks on and on about
past floods and moments of weakness
where man has stopped its flow.

Sticks walks by and waves.
He’s a nice man, how I know I’m not
so sure. He never talks just
walks that asphalt trail.

Through town I spy glimpses of Heaven
where angels own stores and throw newspapers.
Where I walk
just to walk.





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