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A Story by Relic
I remember rain tapping at the diner window. The smooth white table we sat at held ketchup, salt, and her mournful face cradled in the palm of her ha..
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Once in a while,as though pulled in by some desireor force,some decide to take a ride backto Writers Cafe.It's not always a long visit, yetthey still ..
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I will plant daffodils at your grave.When they've grownand blossomed, when they're huggedby an apricot-colored sun,I'll see them exist,cheerful in sm..
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The Little B*****d~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Iwish I'd seen him in Fairmountwith a Stetson hat, blue jeans, and boots;or with his collar turned up on a ra..
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A Story by Relic
My name is Glen Harper. When it comes to exercise, I love to walk. I've developed a routine that I do every day, and Ridgecrest Road, near where I li..
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In the yard, in the fogof a heavy downpour two toddlers wore the rainlike tight-fitted jeans which clung to them so soggy, and yet ~ in moments of ..
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A Story by Relic
Extracted from a poem.
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A variation on another poem I wrote.
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~~~The wind will not stop sighing. Its words are insistent and foreign,
hour after hour...
It runs through the fields
and sprints through tr..
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