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One track mind

Tell out loud
how good coffee lingers
like nicotine fingers.
Remember now
how a curly head kid
had to keep up with Dad,
no proffered hand,
in a strange land
of cigars and racing forms.
*Outta my way, kid.*
And men behind wickets
spat out the tickets
but seldom gave us money back.

And now, coffee cooling,
I think of tag-along days that are long gone.
And I remember how Dad always smelled of cigars,
though he never smoked one.
And how I came home from those days of loss
to a crying mother
and fights in the kitchen.

Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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