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The Once Grassy Plain
Not electric
by this aged rock
solid against the waves
of the lake.
The smoke rises
above the city,
but I remain noncommital
breathing shallow, thoughtlessly
concentrating on the passion
of a recent lover
unknown to the hazy sunlight
in my eyes.
Fresh concrete poured
to fill in the spaces and cracks
that expose the surface
of being alone
on the once grassy plain.
poem
by
Gary Winkel
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