Edging toward three decades of memories and reshuffled details, still counting on friends I made 20 years ago (or at least 20 days). You'd think we'd all be seasoned and wise now.
It doesn't seem to work that way, but I do know their insights keep gaining value, like triple-cream illegal French cheese.
Thank goodness other people can write poems.
When I snap my fingers
You will wake in a dear yet unfamiliar place
You will scarcely remember your travail
You will be eating green caterpillars over a small fire
An awesome congeries of youthful men and women
Will be brushing these very tracks away
You will scarcely remember your travail
You will be eating green caterpillars over a small fire
An awesome congeries of youthful men and women
Will be brushing these very tracks away
—C.D. Wright—
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