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Frayed Strings

The soundtrack without sound
in a movie never made

The apple of the paring
for the pie that wasn’t baked

The scratch of itch not coming
after sneeze aborts in air

The weight of daily drubbing
knowing fair is never fair

Final stride at end of day
which began with one at dawn

The learning from your “betters”
that you’re not even pawn

Looking in the morning mirror
hoping not to see an ass

The pocket ever empty
weighing wallet’s minus mass
– Smith, 11.15.2017

Have a poem published yesterday on John Grochalski’s WINEDRUNK SIDEWALK: SHIPWRECKED IN TRUMPLAND — https://winedrunksidewalk.blogspot.com/2017/11/day-two-hundred-and-ninety-nine.html

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