Breathing Between Apathy and Perfection
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Home
I leave,
drive,
carry-walk,
fly,
carry-walk,
stand.
I see license plates
outside Midway and
know that each of the miles between the Rockies and Lincoln's land have gone below.
I've come for you.
You're coming for me.
1 comment:
kath
January 22, 2011 at 8:06 AM
"carry-walk" -- especially like this word, Emily.
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"carry-walk" -- especially like this word, Emily.
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