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C H A R L E S R A F F E RT Y - T H E M A N W A I T I N G F OR T HE L IGHT TO C HANGE

It was a windy morning. High up above the buildings of Stamford, he saw a bit of silvery trash as it winked and sailed, higher than birds, higher than chimney smoke, above the buses and trains and the hundreds of cars that had betrayed them to their jobs, that had gotten them there without accident or breakdown or loss of blood. The pigeons huddled on a wire waiting for the sun to hit them. The smell of the Sound, which was likely sparkling and full of tied-up yachts with seagulls scything at the air, drifted through the streets. It was a faint odor, but unquestionably there. Then the light changed, and he hurried in a crowd across the street and into the revolving doors. Like everyone else, he believed his reasoning was sound.

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Springgun Issue 8  

POEMS by CHRIS CAROSI LAURA MINOR BRITT GAMBINO SUSAN LEWIS SETH LANDMAN ADAM VEAL SALLY MOLINI FRANCESCO LOVATO LAUREN EGGERT-CROW...

Springgun Issue 8  

POEMS by CHRIS CAROSI LAURA MINOR BRITT GAMBINO SUSAN LEWIS SETH LANDMAN ADAM VEAL SALLY MOLINI FRANCESCO LOVATO LAUREN EGGERT-CROW...

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