A freight train wind
Blew down the street
Cold with souls
Stacked high like cordwood
Off, I suppose,
To be processed (and then what)
I gave it a feeble wave
And kept on walking
Ain't no business of mine
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This is not a diary. It is a collection of thoughts, essays, stories, etc on those topics that are of interest to me. Being a blog, it goes without saying that it is utterly self-indulgent.
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