Drunk
On the smell of
Ink, the story
Unfolds. Eyes
Race from left to
Right to left
Again, like an over-
Wrought typewriter.
Pages turn,
Turn,
Turn,
Turn. The end is
Looming, happily or
Not.
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What the Poet said....
You've more discipline than I, as I jump to the last page - well written again - Buddah
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