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  • Sara Solano


The arid land beneath the soles

of my dusty sneakers

slithers its way

into the motel room.

Its chipped floral wallpaper

reveals lead tainted paint,

and the carpet screams

a damp odor.

The toxic chlorine filled pool

stings all over

as the merciless sun

burns through skin

and bone.

It is beautiful.

Fresh and new.

Free of failures and discontent,

of unwanted memories.

Miles upon miles of absolutely nothing.

This is the beginning.

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