The evening winds are blowing in a storm.
The horizon a dark and bruised blue.
Rain all night. I don't mind it because I am safe and warm.
The pounding rain and the intrusive thoughts.
A woman singing in my ear buds may lull me to sleep.
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God is impossibly far away.
The olds say "Don't be a drama queen; it's just the end of the world.
The 20 something tomboy I see at the park; I hope she is safe.
Cursing the muddy and swollen creek behind her house, smoking a Marlboro red.
I hope we can shoot the shit at the picnic tables, on a pleasant summer day again.
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Maybe the sky will be a dim baby blue in the morning.
The clouds dissipated and docile with first light.
The olds have no kind words for the youth that feel the gun at their back.
The tomboy says she has Faith in Jesus, and reads The Bible on her lunchbreak.
She says it is a glory to be born.
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