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  • Final toll, then Cedar Grove on the outskirts of the capital city,
    Eight lanes of bustle, merging in, dodge and hustle, while taking in
    the promise of it’s gleaming, golden dome.
    Then the looming dark tower - flag erect and pointing skyward;
    How its smoky glass used to wield such power,
    But the names have changed, and I learned to slip its grasp.
    As the road splits off towards home with rearview reflections of the dome,
    I settle in with McKorkle coffee as the last hour looms ahead.
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