something must be open.
this Christmas morning.
somewhere.
coffee.
a donut, a paper.
a few scratch off lottery
tickets.
there has to be a 7 11
nearby
this town.
this Midwest town
in the middle
of nowhere.
I give my horse a carrot,
a pat on the rump
and say giddyup.
let's go.
then off we go,
galloping through
the long frozen fields,
the plains of
rolling snow.
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