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Stuck in Traffic

Between thoughts and actions, the body
reacts to what it can and cannot do. Sleep
and peace requires effort and courage, silence
won on dangerous brushes with fires and
insanity, noise and illegal activity.

Up and down the mire we think, throwing
old ideas into the pyre like certain foods
and certain drink, just when we think we know
our day, it changes, our other half requires,
there’s some unrest, you cannot kick feet
up yet—

Stuck in traffic between ideas and thoughts,
actions and certain pops; the day itself of
signs and visions, one course like the skier
finds down a mountain of gold yielding more
metal. We all climb a mountain in order to
rest at the top, write a song to sing it later
but at first for self-satisfying rhymes.

Truth is an angry bitch, will bite you squarely
on the rear unknown to itself it’s a fire
spreading to renew the hillside and its
flowers, all we portray the devastation caused
by gripping pulling flames.

“We come in peace,” they exclaim, gobbling
up men and women and their games. Their
peace, our war, one person’s game another’s
reality, more pits of the yin and yang
and at the same time more high heights.

My day is falling pleasantly and thoughtfully,
legal and true as I write—

A September leaf as I write.

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