Passing through downtown (a poem)

Sometimes this town is a little screwy.

A man steps forward
shiny object in his hand
like he’s got something to say

But he just stares
I drive away

Another runs up Magnolia
in the left-turn only lane

I look in the rear-view
as I drive by
he fades away

Is it possible
to get closer to Heaven?

Not today

(16 February 2020)



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