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The road at 1 a.m.
was only a traffic light
giving out instructions
like a good soldier
even when no one was around to obey them.
He watched from the window,
a guest in his own life.
Music played a few rooms away,
the jazz that she likes.
He likes it too
if she says he should.
A car finally drives up the road
and keeps going past his house.
His hands slide back down the window
through a cloud his breath left behind.
A wailing saxophone breached his thoughts.
God, how he hated this song,
or loved it,


Christopher Hivner lives in a small town in Pennsylvania where he scribbles many things, including to-do lists, unreadable notes to himself, and the occasional poem. He writes in several genres and is proud to have had a collection of short horror stories, The Spaces Between Your Screams, published in 2008. You can visit his website at

© 2010, Christopher Hivner

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