Caught In The Stream
not poetry. not fiction. a life, and something in between.
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Tuesday, June 11, 2013
what's left
A fly fell from the sky, barely alive, onto my hand. No, not a fly, but some small thing with black wings it slowly flicked while resting. It didn't buzz at me, or couldn't. It sighed a hum-drum
was
and left, or it left what was left of it.
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