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a voice crying out in the postmodern wilderness

Your Shell

A routine day
Wash the car, call the lawn guy
BLT on white, toasted with mayo
Lost your balance on the porch
Clinical smells, beeps, and hard mopped floors
Dialysis not working
Come quickly
Sobs by the window
Your shell right there, still
Your soul not there, somewhere new
He had your nose and your hair
But I knew it wasn't you

The Long Road

Always Okay