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I am driving through a pothole minefield
on the Southeast Expressway.
I am sitting while my tooth is drilled by
the dentist’s slowest drill.
I am laying quietly with a migraine when
a flashbulb explodes in my face.
I am drifting off to sleep when
the jackhammer starts jacking.
I am writing when the chalk slips
screeching across the blackboard.
I am picking up a pin when it slides
beneath my fingernail.
I am listening as Ethan’s “rap” smashes
to splinters the oak door of my mind.
1993