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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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WAYNE MASON
Corner of Cadiz and Menendez From my hotel balcony I watch the sun slowly peak up over a soft pink morning under the stale haze of a head splitting hangover again The fishermen already wading across crystalline waters that softly crash tiny deaths across the bay In the distance car after car head across sea battered bridges to crowded beaches somewhere someone laughs On the sidewalk below tourists already beat down sidewalks in search of neon storefronts to drop more cash than I see in a week sounds of people birds, boats, and passing cars blend together and form a new kind of silence a new day arrives hustling and bustling and all I wonder is Do they even notice the sunrise Wayne Mason is a writer and factory worker from central Florida, when he grows up he wants to be Kannon. His work has most recently appeared in Zygote In My Coffee, Children Churches and Daddies, and Remark. |
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© 2006 Underground Voices |
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