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Blue Pyramids
Listening to the birds
of ancient rymedies,
we were sharing music
around America’s
modern camp fire.
driving through
tiny plazas and scenic pastures
skimming
into the what looked like
the grey, paved future.
asking myself,
what’s worth more than
a rhythm of my time,
A moment of hate?
Or the recognition of love?
The answer-
must be somewhere above the city scape,
lost in the bluely lit pyramids.
I can’t imagine turning this car home.
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