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The first frost of the season. It's cold out here, cold and dark. I wonder from behind which mountain the sun will show, she points to the side with a "there". It sure is cold out here the first frost of the season. Cold and dark and momentarily we share a cigarette and a view. Shit it's cold out here sure I've had it worse but that was a different time different situation. Factory workers start six six-thirty she says. I'd start six forty-five I say back then riding the trolley listening to music or reading it was pretty fine then sometimes you'd doze off and miss the station. Back then but you sort of got used to the cold you know it gets in your system or something your blood figures it out. Or whatever. Let go back inside now goddamnit before I freeze something off she says I say the first frost of the season It sure is cold and I bet the sun won't show for another hour. Maybe some coffee by candle just sit in the silence sipping having breakfast until it's time to go. Lets. |
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| | From: ^~JustL | Sent: 10/21/2008 3:44 AM |
semi quasi portrait poem..almost too many characters tho. the first frost was a fascination for whatever reason.
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i thought there were only two. she and me. or are you talking about characters as in letters to be paired down. ty for reading and the thought ws |
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| | From: jbond77 | Sent: 10/21/2008 6:45 PM |
I'm a love and hate frosty, thought there was to many references to the road less taken and not enough of the actual road |
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| | From: _susan_ | Sent: 10/22/2008 7:01 AM |
you can get rid of this: Or whatever or whatever. candlelight? candle feels cut off. other than those minor suggestions, i have none. a beautiful story stitched with care. s. |
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| | From: gypsy | Sent: 10/22/2008 7:08 AM |
i started a poem in reaction, WS, but it froze. i am frozen. |
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taw, you must taw back up. remember frosty the monster he doesn't really exist. |
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