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Today I died on the freeway by the overpass on the 427 a hot and relentless August rain made it too dark to be five thirty I walked home slowly from work as you do when you're tired oh yes, I was sad too but we all are it's easy to be sad when it rains in August when I reached the overpass in the middle I leaned over my hair passed my eyes and droplets fell down, down I thought about it twenty feet into traffic the guardrail is never as useful as a sweet and good-hearted hug so then I thought better of it and put my headphones in I died on the freeway then got up and kept walking.
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Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
Twenty Feet Above the Queensway
Today I died on the freeway by the overpass on the 427 a hot and relentless August rain made it too dark to be five thirty I walked home slowly from work as you do when you're tired oh yes, I was sad too but we all are it's easy to be sad when it rains in August when I reached the overpass in the middle I leaned over my hair passed my eyes and droplets fell down, down I thought about it twenty feet into traffic the guardrail is never as useful as a sweet and good-hearted hug so then I thought better of it and put my headphones in I died on the freeway then got up and kept walking.
A lot of poems about rain and highways recently, but that's only because it's been raining very consistently and I'm on the highway every day. I don't seek out clichés, they find me.
iamjac
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Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
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