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[at-l] Fourteen hundred and sixty days



Sixty miles to the mountains in my dreams
and right now, so far away they seem.

So many people each alone in their car;
pollution obscures any view of a star.

The brake lights glow incessant red,
strobing blue piercing through my head.

One fatality on the interstate:
will this eventually be my fate?

Night and day I feel the pull of the trail,
to escape the phone and unending email.

Not sure I can wait til 2004
before I set myself free to soar.

Fourteen hundred and sixty days
to find my way out of this rat's maze.


POG
Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end

                                                              
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