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September 12, 2022

Circle C

walking around the circle
I, myself, and me

in search of the broken arrow

shot from a star in the distant constellation

falling to earth among the towering oaks and passive pines

a million man acorn army ruling the ground

never to be found are the 

drummer boys off in the distance 

sound omens of destruction 

/ / /

rain tapping on the metal roof

peering out a tiny window upper bunk

of a 17 foot Fan travel trailer

listening for bears or raccoons making tracks

those night owls of the wilderness

wandering about in search of treasures

the smell of distant campfires

the distant sound of am radio

wafting through the thin august air

lone motorcycle roaring down an anonymous country road late at night

somewhere in the vast distance

maybe a mile away, maybe a thousand miles away

ten years old and wishing I was on that bike

going somewhere, anywhere