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14
by Thomas Centolella

    I dreamt half my life was spent

    in wonder, and never suspected.

    So immersed in the moment

    I forgot I was ever there.

    Red-tailed hawk turning

    resistance into ecstasy.

    The patrolmen joking with the drunk

    whose butt seemed glued to the sidewalk.

    A coral quince blossom in winter,

    pink as a lover's present.

    And tilting my bamboo umbrella

    against the warm slant

    of rain, was I not a happy peasant

    crossing the great bay on a bridge that began

    who knows when, and will end

    who knows when.

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