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Ionic Winter (Free verse) by david
you are an ionic winter,
a rough stone
sitting on the beach,
forever waiting for the tide to arrive.
And here am i,
Macbeth in many ways.
With time on
my hands, i wait
for you to play these games.
"Fine," you say,
looking me up and down
rather critically,
"Just this once."
and since then, Portage
and
Main
has never been so damn cold.
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