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A note from my paper journal

A page from my poetry journal today:

09/11/01 9: 35 am.

The sun shines today.
In fields, white butterflies frolic.
No planes are in the sky.
Over and over, a scene from ‘Die Hard’ plays on the television
The building gets blown up
The building comes down
People look afraid
But no one yells ‘Cut’
The reels just keep spinning

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