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Monday, April 2, 2018

Remembering the Bulls

If I wash my clean hair with
the same coconut scented shampoo I used
when August heat sent me running
From the sun,
I can crawl beneath the comfort
of the sheets on my bed
at an old home, and when
Like The Dawn begins to swing,
the notes aid me in imagining
My blades still graze ice in the morning,
and I will drive into early afternoon
and I will read Hemingway by
the fading light of The Sun
which Also Rises.
but it will rise on a different time.
I will welcome it's glow, and I will bear
My forearms to the stars
hidden and unnamed.

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