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Drunken Husbands 

Most people only saw an unkempt island of overgrown lawn at the traffic circle where the cars from three directions patiently waited their turns to merge with the rest, but at this moment she was alone and saw
butterflies dancing from crown vetch flower to crown vetch flower and bumble bees drinking from clover like drunken husbands drinking from beer mugs, and she wondered where her own was.

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  • A poem by Cathy Furlani.

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