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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Wednesday, January 24, 2024
clam chowder
this is good soup,
she says,
sipping her clam chowder
in the dim
light of the cafe.
it is i tell her, blowing
on my spoon.
spilling crackers
into the mix
of potatoes and clams,
all white.
is there more to talk about?
perhaps,
but not right now.
not tonight.
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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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