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Jun 2011
A ribbon
         of film
       imprinted with
    memories
not that far
      distant, slipping
past
    tires that spin
   so desperately
                  forward
                      that they,
                 with blinded
             intentions,
        are moving
backward,
         whirring past
                faces and forever
open arms
                     that  used
                                 to matter.
Jillyan Adams
Written by
Jillyan Adams
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