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April 22, 2012


I just found a poem that I wrote in 1976 at the age of 20


The wheelchair grasps another victim

Slowly sucking its energy

With every turn of the squeaky wheels.

Three hundred sixty dreaded degrees

Morbid degrees of freedom

Ecstacy that at least this is left

Never believe in an oil can to smooth a joint:

It makes you slide further into the pit

Getting out is relative.

You always belittled a truck driver before

But how you would love to be one.

It's funny how life treats us --

Yet when we are beyond repair how we treat life.


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thanks for this post, i love everything you blog about!:)

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