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Looking for Margie

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  • Looking for Margie

    Day closes its face
    Filling the fields with memory
    Thinking of Margie
    Your words come at me
    From a fist of crows
    Hidden in an old trough

    Jesus
    Could you drink
    Because you killed a hemophiliac
    Driving that car
    Your pelvis exploding
    A star in the night air

    Now we have grown away
    So much grass from the ground
    Small animals meander
    Quietly on the moon
    Like so much old hat
    They want you to come back

  • #2
    Very moving, publishable.

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    • #3
      Thank you for your comment. A true story. Praise from you is of course from the highest realm of the celestial dome and much appreciated.

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