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This is poem #14 for the November Poem-A-Day challenge. Today’s prompt was to write a “crossroads” poem.
Pennsylvania or bust
five hours from anywhere
he stares out the bus window
wipes off the occasional
condensation, sign of life
the big buildings of the city
give way to the small towns
on the border then to the
trees and trees and trees
there are still pastures here
acres and acres of land
given over to cows and sheep
he falls asleep as the sun sets
head resting against the window
dreams traveling
in the opposite direction
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