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bike ride 1
By Ally Harris
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today my bike was
decorated, from
dusty garage-green
to wispy white, little
fluffy flags knotted in
the cackling sun of dawn.
they, trapped in my
wheel, made me think
i was hovering the
earth on a white down
pillow, instead of the
extermination of
Mother Duck's
ducklings that occurred
in my spokes
seconds earlier
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This never really happened to Ally Harris or
anyone affiliated with Ally Harris in any way, shape or form. But if it had,
would it make this poem any funnier? The answer is: maybe.
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