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Replay The woman pushes the stroller I look up; the pale sliver of moon white skin, with veins Where am I? What is this world? You are just a child. I am your mother. I am a woman Steering the wheel through questions The moon is too pale in the dark I look up for the answers Drive and crash into a twisting tree someone’s backyard. The man is beside me, muttering If you don’t know how to drive, don’t I do know how to drive I’m just tired. He looks up; winter carries away his sighs. I lean crumpled on the wheel I’m just tired. I grip the plastic handles Carts and strollers, both feel the same How can they feel the same? Mommy, the little thing says Where am I? What is this world? The child looks up, confused at my confusion Carts and strollers are not the same I look up Together, we search the sky.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 11/20/2017 3:16:00 PM
Such a strong sense of words.
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Date: 1/3/2016 6:53:00 PM
This is a very good poem
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