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Progress

I tripped
while retrieving this,
letting my thoughts,
like a calling,
stumble my way
as I
forgot the hamper was behind me.

Prior, I
shaved clean my
soul patch
and began to ponder,
“what should be written?”

The stalling of a parking lot’s progress
mimicked me for a second—
the fidget of eyes—
and, within that epiphanic second, I
found solace in the ruled-blue pages
of this draft.

Arguing at the intersection
how to stop a smile from breaking

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