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Cement

Stone Ground

By Michael DeNicolaPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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The trees are bare this time of year

On the porch, having a cigarette

I could be drunk,

the drink plays tricks

The Earth is fake with its plastic grass

A woman rushes to her car

The moon has conquered the sky

Thunder above our heads,

Ice and fire

She waits for the warmth before she moves

She isn't real.

I should have worn a warmer jacket

I'm assuming that it's cold

Buzzing is in my head

Cars are whizzing down the road

My silence is filled

Tipping over my old beer

It was warm when I sat down

The sun has been gone for years

A time that's more painful than the rest.

nature poetry
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