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Wednesday Morning Thoughts

Orangeade dawn drips an artificial haze across
the cityscape; a tang creeps through my open window
as I stir coffee thick from being reheated once too 
often, the scent of oily exhausts belched by buses 
and cars carrying recently woken yet weary workers 
off to earn that daily bread for which we sometimes
give thanks, sometimes, but not at work nor when 
reading the deductions on the stub; I remember, as
a child, being hurt in different ways, and the sweet
consolation of Kool-Aid staining my upper lip when 
it had not yet dawned on me where I would someday be.