May 21, 2010
He was a caterpillar,
a youth, an intellect. The
air cleansed his golden locks
in the midst of humid
springtime, and the horns
sounded his spirit and
sang his name when he
was too shy to introduce
himself. Shallow footprints
followed his path and
sweat stung his eyes and
trickled the creeks of his face.

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