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Of a Crude Pursuit.

Diverted
from a path, lost
in a dust cloud,
plowing
new footprints

for others to follow
like sheep,
weave in and out
of or avoid
like the goddamn plague,

whatever they choose
to make of it:

running before
or walking
behind. Living,
dying thirst
for some semblance
of mercy
in crude pursuit

of truth,
honesty,
integrity:
the only

state I could confidently
call the high life.

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