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5 o'clock
The day begins, nape of neck bakes in the sun
as ingrown hairs and a
5 o'clock shadow move in.
You watch all the pretty girls
on Gilmore street.
They have better things to do.
Better men to build memories with.
Better men to fuck.
You follow traffic
to the intersection
crossing haphazardly,
fingering the dime in your pocket.
Raymond Strickland
