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Ode to Textbooks in Summertime

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Ode to Textbooks in Summertime

Flung into forgotten places
By owners too eager
To forget the passage of time
(to a kid on vacation every day is Saturday)
Dust collects like a second skin,
the sticky glue of summertime sweeping dog – eared bindings.
As they listen to the shouts of people,
Words trickle through their pages,
Ink smears with the dampness of conversations -
text sealed with dark spots of mildew and neglect.

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