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Poetry Break: Unprepared




Unprepared


The grocery cart, over-laden, will careen abandoned through the parking lot of liquid silver puddles


Or else the little man will come stumbling from the strip club, visions of dancers still writhing in his engorged memory


Perhaps instead, the wasteland's barren silence will be cracked by the wet, green cry of the world's last newborn



Or maybe the frictionless slick vehicles of the interstellar commute will halt

as the velvet black expanse is torn asunder


And the light at last flows in, carrying all before itself on a standing wave.



(c) S.Kirk Pierzchala, 2021

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