Be it the hammer fall,
Pounding gunshots of my
Teal Smith Corona, or
The dull thud offset
With click-tap of
My shiny Macbook,
The words shriek and
Pry loose from
My mind
And
Onto, into, out through
The Medium, hoping
To lodge and settle
Deep into your
Waiting, tongue
Lolling
Think-box.
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