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The Fork
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The Fork

Poem By Scott Stevenson

your umbrella won't always hold out the rain. you'll see that
it gets you when the wind blows. likewise,
your dark glasses can't keep all the sun out.
your gloves are powerless against
the winter freeze turning your fingers purple.
you may think of everything.
everything might be simple and fine
for your eyes. but the road is still so crooked
as long as you're walking.
the rain will come to drown you.
the sun will rise up to cook you.
the cold will try to benumb your limbs.
you will see the fork in the road ahead, no matter
how blinded or beaten you've been. and you
will have to choose to deny
those poison darts in life,
to pretend you are so wisely protected...
or choose to take the trouble
as it comes.

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