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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

9 mm

every city needs its masked man
arms covered in ointment
to consider the el train
cramped by days impoverished
to come to this vacation
no hymns or dedications
or answers but gunpoint decisions
clarifies empty of chambers
someone else’s voice starts
like any family warning
it’s a joke over the hill
commutes by old adrenaline
victimless you cross home
because you decide to

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