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Jun 2012
I'm facing the horizon, reclining in the cool grass, staring deeply into the pink and purple sky.
It is an exemplary evening and I am enticed by its extravagance. I contemplate existence.
I contemplate all our lives:
The gnat licking sweat of my brow,
You,
Me,
That tree across the street,
Your dead friends, my ancestors, that hot Latina chick that works at Panara (not that I really eat at Panara).
The undercover cop that won't stop eyeing me.

I watch the pink fade into purple fade into nothing at all. The clouds disperse, becoming nothing more than disconnected particles of dirt and waterΒ Β suspended in midair, and the sun goes down.



I **** the gnat and go home.
Ok. Not really a poem, but I find it poetic.
Billy Bob Will Bob Joe Bob
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