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Poem: Meadowbrook, July 15 

Today was for the three that
stopped traffic—
the five that stopped traffic—
but the three that had their
hearts stop along with it.

Tonight, I think about
the blood, the girl kneeling
in the middle of the road.
The helicopters so loud
that I thought it was war.

Tomorrow, we’ll pass the spot
like we usually do.
Unless there’s a piece of that
road, that parkway, waiting to
stop us too.

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