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Snowy March
June 4, 2015
It wasn’t cold outside
as we smoked our cigarettes,
filters torn off,
taken from
trashcans.
Two walks around the block,
running from
junkies,
unwilling to share our blunt.
He picks her up and asks her
how it feels.
She says she flew
without him.
Our skin stings,
head aches,
the blood is only
temporary.
We brace.
Inhale slowly,
exhale the
truth.
© Olivia E., Alto, MI
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