HAD I ONCE REMEMBERED
The great insomniac night has left,
carrying its rainbow and its quartered
cloud. The room seems surely empty
without that presence. I feel that I
shall hit the road again : running past
the planted rows of doubtless corn
and leftover stubble. Winter rows
of idle kindness, peeking through
the snow between the lanes of little
towns where once the natives
used to go. My heart, my
heart is on its dashboard
once again.
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