We drive 200 miles to a national park,
to a motel room with carpets and lamps
where we argue some more the same old
arguments.
(But when we stop fighting,
we are in a redwood forest.)
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poem a day
This is just poetry. It won't save you, but it may locate you so that a rescue party can be sent out. — Dean Blehert
Dean Blehert
1 comment:
I love the juxtaposition of the mean and profound.
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