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5 min readMar 12, 2021
There is Poetry Here.
At three a.m. we were all drunk sitting on the observation deck of the train as it pulled into the San Antonio station. I’d been lucky enough to sleep through that stop on my way to New Orleans. Now on my way back home, I was allured by the sound of poetry. The words describing a lilac evening; scented, gorgeous and passing. A group of passengers reading aloud to one another from various books and crumpled up pages and sat just…