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Dan Steven Erickson

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A Little Hope

2022-03-17

walked beneath the smoke-darkened sky this morning,
ashes falling.
three crosses on a car’s window sticker looked like the devil’s pitchfork.
the catholic church bells started ringing,
sounded like the beginning of Hotel California.
got my coffee, went back home,
closed myself in, thought about life, and wrote this poem.
there’s still a little hope.

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