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Today my fingers cooperate
if only there were more thoughts
for my digits to dig down into.

“Three thoughts, one mouth,” I say
to buy a few seconds,
to organize the bursting box cars
into a forward moving train.

Full stop.

I am at a railroad crossing.
Waiting for others to pass.

Waiting.

I scroll
past notions and fragments,
hunting a phrase
worth polishing.

I am here.  Where are you?

Who will help polish
this rough carbon matter
to a diamond?

I am here for today’s loss
of fingers, of words,
of ideas to shape them.

And I will show up tomorrow
and the day after that.

And one day
I will be present
to win.

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