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Click hereWe are dust and modern metal,
past Purgatory Mountain,
through pear fields.
With calmer hollows,
we settle, where boards
and swing rope, just pieces,
stir reminiscence.
Then down easy windings
to Terpin's:
Come in.
Buy ham, honey
and apples.
I resist.
She remembers
smoking roadside butts,
with Cherry Boy,
on her way here,
when the way was still dirt.
We leave these roads, soft
beside knee-slapping grass,
and continue home.
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copyright d. dixon
06/11/04
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<br>The vivid ease with which you conjure the real that lies all about us neglected, is just a part of what makes for the extraordinary rush you bring to my delighted mind.
You have such a way with words. You can make a scene come alive in your mind's eye with them. That is true genius.
Thank you for sharing.