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With the luxury of summer time

I ride one of my bikes around

the warren of dead ends in Omaha

winding through the web

of sandy walkways

between holiday homes

blank cubist structures and neo-hacienda

many with blinds down

and boats mooching on trailers

being just one weekend option

for those on whom the gods

and lineage have smiled


and past the still-life of a man

in shorts and sunburnt boobs and belly

paused to address his phone

while the baby sleeps in its buggy

and a restless kid rides rings around

a small white dog straining

with arched back and bunched paws.

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