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Friday, April 20, 2012


It's strange
how when you stop
and breath
and feel the wind
as it caresses your skin
reacting with all the follicles
now standing at attention
and flesh pimples rise
with an electric rush
you can suddenly be so sure
that this gust was meant only for you.

And it is oddly comforting
that someone
is having the mirror of your experience
and this commonality
connects and binds us
to the larger world
our unique exploits now grand
as if part
of a cleverly designed whole.

(poem 8 of 30)

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