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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Sunday, April 21, 2024
the first job
to have
a job, was everything.
a check
at the end of two weeks.
money
in your pocket.
a car,
a place to live,
clothing and food.
a clock to punch
and work.
everything came after
that.
love too.
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not again, how can this be?
the bongo is a good choice for protest marches
finding Sylvia
the pretty fruit
the rudderless ship
three cups by noon
zoo mornings
where are the grown ups?
necessary Rx
the fish fry
summer margaritas
strangely, we get along
patching things up
the marching sheep of ignorance
shrinkage
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deciding our future through dodge ball
we're still here
the faces of hate and fear
sailing towards morning
captured in time
the bird cage
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my grandmother's protests
just a rock
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social warriors
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to somewhere we will go
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hey mister
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37 percent chance of rain
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dear diary
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fifty percent chance of anything
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i love them all equally
take two of these and call me in the morning
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a cult of one
life lessons
25 dollar gin and tonic
the firetrucks arrive
two poached eggs
no ticket needed
orphans
somehow, here we are
my apologies to celery
cry me a river
sunrise fishing
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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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