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Bronze Poet

Driving in Circles

Driving in Circles
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We smoke cigarettes in the dark,

while we drive around in my car.

You sit across from me.

Just three feet from me.

We listen to the radio.

I wonder if we’ll ever go

Somewhere, sometime.

I didn’t think so.

We drive in circles; always in circles.

I look at you and say, “What is there to do today?”

Is it cold, is it dead?  Is it black inside my head?

I laugh.  You cry.

I never asked you why.

We’d just drive in my car.

We’d never go very far.

We drive in circles; always in circles.

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