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Jul 2020
The fourth, the fifth, the sixth hour, the seventh hour
the fireworks erupted on,
and on and on and on,
like an artillery barrage that was being walked in
on an elusive target it would never strike,
one began to wonder if one would ever be free
of the lingering smog of smoke and the sonic assault on the senses.
Joseph S Pete
Written by
Joseph S Pete  Chicagoland
(Chicagoland)   
97
 
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