rattling sabers death comes near in the minds of the
overinformed while on slick pavement I travel the road to
2000 and the blank future a slate to be written, dark as the
pavement, reflecting thelight in blurry imagery, confusing
the eye floating low under myvision line pulling my eyes
away from what I need to see a diversion of Algerians coming
over the border heading for the celebration preparing to
make a big impression a diversion from my own life
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Index of new writing © 2000 Thomas Coleman

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