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This is a Peace Poem

dwelling in the canyon of red sand stone we marked our houses with characters befitting our desires  if we were sad  w...

Friday, December 10, 2010

Blowing Smoke

Like my mother
I wake in the middle
of the night
to have a cigarette
I shouldn't have

Forbidden
like my thoughts
hidden
like my dreams
I think of you
and wish I wasn't

blowing smoke


Pattra Burnetto Monroe November 2008 
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