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| Life On My Fingertips |
2/25/2011
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Life on my fingertips, death on my toenails.
Early morning winter frost on criss-crossed telephone power lines.
Reaching out to call a song to somebody, whomever.
A bird sits, relaxes, then takes off.
Carrier pigeon, or vulture with a destination?
Only the frost will melt in time.
You decide.
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