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Poetry: Modern world

by Jakob Lint

Late

Mint-flavored fresh water, fresh wound

from a broken glass of broken dreams.

Cream pie memories, checking out the check score.

We're glorious simple.

We're amazing commonplace.

Running alibi laps, sinking stranger ships.

Sentencing sentences, hanging contrived commas.

Breathing in the secondhand, breathing out vintage years.

We're petrified indifference.

We're living late.

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