Monday, July 18, 2011

Transit Prosody (Poet)

The girl beside me on my flight to Indianapolis is diligently plowing through her novel while I'm flinging folders, scrawling 'cross journals, cranking iPod volume up and down, chomping cashews . . . . I'm a poet! She quietly reads by lamplight, and I apologize for kicking my bag at her feet, unintentionally.

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