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Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Two in the Morning

It's Wednesday, two in the morning:
instant coffee and an English muffin.
Chilly in the kitchen. Forty degrees
and a cold black rain outside.
                                                I complain
to the four walls of my apartment. I complain:
There is beauty that I cannot dance with.
There are songs to which I don't know
and will never learn the words, poems
which my voice is too dusty to render.

I wish I were young. I wish I could sleep
eight hours each night. I wish I lived in
Montana. I want to visit holy ground.

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