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Through The Glass Dimly


by Judith A. Lawrence


The used car lot neon light

blinks foggily

at the oncoming traffic

on a dreary rainy afternoon,

and you and I peer out the window

of the highway diner

at the relentless downpour,

repeating our well-worn phrases

and pregnant pauses.

 

Odd bookends

stuck in familiar territory,

we have become lethargic

like old brood cows

in the confines of our meadow.

 

Yet haven't we always played our roles,

you, with your puffed up control,

but look, The Emperor has no clothes.

 

And me,

the bird with cement feet

flapping useless wings,

the ties that once bound

unraveling,

its life dimly,

slowly,

blinking,

to

a

halt.

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