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Show Miracles Bad feeling day. Foot thick snow with slop underneath, glasses gone white with star prints. Barbs tore through canvas straight away, palms bruised and burning with the many gouges. Then the log chain slipped on the stretcher, twisted a thumb knuckle. Like to get out of this, someplace, and sleep, but the darned truck won't start. Tough, only woe to those who lie down with snow. So sit on the seat and watch breath fall back to moist gray ash-- that face peering through the mist, read in it confusion? Must be kidding. Snow filling up like nothing ever seen. Bad feeling day. |