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Midnight Rhapsody This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   The needless knob on the stereo,

The weighty flight of mid-morning essence

borne down by the discords and dissonances of confused morals.

Like a hollow drum, the midnight streets

the lonely telephone pole talking to the faint sirens,

the midnight air, the cool breeze, the lonely lightpost.

As though predestined by a dream to become something,truth perhaps,

nothing moved except

You, me.

Nothing coughed except you, me.

And we coughed lavishly...

because it would be a long time until tomorrow.

When you, me, we would awaken to the solid drum of "reality's" alarm clock

and we: you, me,

would call each other while daylight crept inward light like water, and say

(dial 555-6839)

"I had the funniest dream tonight" And we would say it at the same time,

disbelieving nothing.




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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