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In Portland, Where It Rains


by Sharon Hurlbut



So many opportunities for mud

can be found in these hills,


and petals falling from the roses

are like instant drops of summer.


Kids are causing a riot in their need

for self-expression, coffeehouse romances,


eternal bike lanes. Somewhere downtown

is a dingy garage where the cement


still smells like the rubber of 1990's

almost-championship season.


There are a lot of bridges here,

a lot of ways across the mind.


Come on, says the sun, sparking

madness, I'll race you to the other side.

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