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  • When you wake up early enough
    You get to see the dark gray ice gravel
    On the side of the road
    That crunches under foot
    Powdered white
    Like fresh doughnuts
    before the trip home
    Shakes all the sugar off.
    You realize that the gloves you wore
    Were too thin for the wet wind
    But notice that you have pockets
    To compensate.
    You get to compare
    Your footprints on the way out
    Edging the other side of the road
    With the ones coming back.
    Were you walking as fast.
    Was the line as direct.
    Are you any less bowlegged.
    Can their impressions still be seen
    Or have they already become filled
    To the point of unrecognizable
    Except in memory.
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