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Midnight Trip
November 10, 2015
The hit was harsh, dry like a desert
We sat there for a while
Cells still
Time was moving as fast as a glacier
The night before, running from a man
our feet shuffling across the floor like a broom
Every hit to the ground brought up dust
like my dreams, crushed
We headed home at 3:26am, he fell asleep I’m
woken by bright lights and screams
He hit the breaks
© Bethany P., West port, MA
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