I hurried to the station to go
and meet my train, feelin
hyper: wound to Hell.. yet,
goodstyle, y’know?
Could’ve been the pain-killers;
or could’ve been the green?
It might even been the darn
nice motorist, who slowed
to let me past?
And… I sat… to wait and
write, with eleven minutes
to spare; these words, this
verse in mind: all of thoughts
so kind, toward one I care for.
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