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Whit Howland
Poems
Jul 2019
Gas Station at Midnight
There used to be
a witching hour a last call
but now
this station never closes
an oasis inΒ Β the heart
of a pitch black night
for thirsty cars and drivers alike
just passing through
a state a place
and trying hard
not to lament
what appears
to be lost
with time
and age
Β© Whit Howland 2019
Written by
Whit Howland
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