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Three sonnets Stories

three sonnets

Interstate 420

Written while listening to Live Wire Blues Power

There is no Interstate called Four Twenty,No one can tell me how to go there, now.No entry ramps, no exits one might see,But, still, I dream I'll get there, anyhow. The neon sign still glows so bright, my friend,The penguins manning toll gates ask two bits,Then lifting up the cross bar by its endThey welcome in the artists and misfits. At every mileage marker on the way,Twin speakers echo out some brilliant blues.As Alber...