afternoon into the Cuyahoga valley
and thought about Jack's
forlorn rags of growing old.
If we're fortunate we'll see those days
that tear through years with
increasing speed, like route 80
through a forest in spring,
and feel brand new, ready
for a fistfight, a fit of laughter,
the next great work of art, or maybe
just a chance to mow the lawn.
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