Crossroads | |
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Echoed calls from far off lands Skip off sculptured asphalt and pink-hued lights. The safety of boredom constantly battles With insecure horizons. How much is enough? Too much? There is so much more to letting go than A simple movement of the hand. I stand, shaking, at the ticket window, Nervously letting people, one by one, Take my place in line as the dice in My hand drip beads of sweat on cold linoleum. Tim Hickey |