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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Saturday, May 8, 2021
hometown
knowing the roads,
this town,
each tree grown,
each sign
hammered into the ground,
each store
that's come and gone.
the once new buildings,
now old.
how familiar it all is,
and yet strange
that you still feel lost
amongst it, your home.
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we stayed up too late
waiting to be plucked
at the end of the day
her train wreck
unlocked door
the wrong train
some do
your password is weak, yo
come down off the cross
skeleton
wanting home
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have at it
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the leaf blowers
counting her chickens
rain checks
the clara barton parkway
etc....
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if you could be a tree
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you're such a good listener
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what?
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neither good or bad
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at this point in my life
all else follows
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the optimist online date
december 26 2018
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he or she, not they
just one will do
a box of things
burying the sword
the arrival
i do have this leaky pipe
the kitchen drawer
did you have a fun weekend?
in hospice
cheaper to keep her
the nice day guilt
everything is clearer
hazmat pajamas
another ten minutes
be a good boy
from the outside looking in
no more wishes please
life moving forward
the fine art
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the first taste
going to work and coming home
meditation
she would be happy then
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je ne sais pas
it's the same old song again
meet me at the bar
conformity
alive and well
the year of no roses
the horrors
in the other room
throwing stones
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About Me
Stephen Chute
west springfield, virginia, United States
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
View my complete profile
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