Spit
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Back from school,
about to cross the road,
a car appears near me to turn.
his window down,
face pointed towards me
if I were another,
maybe not a thing would have happened.
As it was, it was I,
Hate.
Seems like you can’t function without it.
Have your coffee dark roast—
Extra bitter.
Lukewarm,
Grounds swirling in the bottom,
--Swirling like those hateful thoughts,
