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  • 20 years old,

    bare dorm room,

    November dark,

    somewhere above

    heavy metal takes on the Grateful Dead.

    Books on the desk,

    unread,

    tattered notebook,

    scored with

    scribbled lines.

    Late for class,

    I pause

    caught by the mirror.

    Ponytail askew,

    red-eyed and hollow

    from too much weed.

    Is this life,

    I ask.

    10,000 stories,

    33 years

    12 jobs,

    6 times zones ,

    two oceans,

    a continent,

    a hemisphere,

    further.

    Dark May morning,

    late for work,

    the mirror catches me,

    bathroom lights harsh

    and unforgiving,

    I pause

    Thinning hair,

    lined by winds

    sun,

    and smiles.

    This

    is life.

    I grin.

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