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Poems by Dan Sicoli
up
blanket crawls away
and i'm the king of parking lots
a flare of purple micro-dot
sleep silent sunrise
6 a.m. you can hear the sun move
if you listen all at once
no answers
over the windshield
four or five dead beer cans
and a few shopping carts
one on its side against a pole
500 parking spaces
sun blinks
no questions
soon
tune car to beatles
guitar of road
soon
white lines like strings
"she told me she worked in the morning..."
i started to laugh
(Appeared in T.E.M.M.)
©2003 Dan Sicoli
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