Tuesday, February 11, 2020

Drive

with the music blaring and the windows down
the grey clouds parted like  drawn drapes 
as I crossed the bridge for what seemed the 100th time
but the sky seemed to be pulling me toward something ominous and fraught with adventure 

and it felt like I couldn’t drive fast enough 
at

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All the grief that swallows us whole is pooling over the edges and bleeding into everything; changing the shape of what it touches. 

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