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      October 18, 2008HomeBob Drojarski

      he holds his breath

      at the thought of going back
      to a life reduced to a double saw buck bet
      on a three teamer going south

      down forgotten streets on crooked dreams
      past cemeteries that still had room for him
      for trying to turn a marriage into cash

      that killed his house and left him in this place
      where he listens for footsteps on the walk
      and fumbles for his keys before

      he unlocks the door and exhales
      walking through his own breath to home
      where the people you hope to find
      you never do

      from #26 - Winter 2006