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		<title>A. Hood | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/adamh2452</link>
		<description>The original writings of author A. Hood</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>He sits on a park bench</title>
			<description>backpack on, feetdanglingas if he's waitingfor a roller coaster to take off.The sign says&quot;you must be this tall to ride&quot;He ignores it--Nights have become stagnant,&amp;nbsp;routine,&amp;nbsp;and the promises&amp;nbsp;of no bedtimeand ice cream for dinner&amp;nbsp;have his mouth watering like never before.Suddenly, ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/adamh2452/1858436/</link>
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			<title>i dont care</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;much for the radioi don't like people telling me what tolisten toor the pretentious voice protrudingthrough my stereothat thinks it knows what i want tolisten toi could turn the volumeall the way upand attempt to blow out the speakers.i would then have..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/adamh2452/1164443/</link>
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			<title>Two A.M. and a Faded Picture Frame</title>
			<description>The illusionof a familiar face in the crowdworks to the advantage of the wandering mind.Although, familiar faces are often alteredwith every &amp;ldquo;X&amp;rdquo; placed on passingcalendar days.&amp;nbsp;So I close my eyesand save today&amp;rsquo;s newspaper,until it becomes yesterday&amp;rsquo;s ne..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/adamh2452/1154187/</link>
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			<title>native americans, indians, whatever</title>
			<description>I'm sitting in a dusty old lab room, my eyes glued to the microscopecarefully analyzing each word that comes out of my mouth.I always thought that everything about politics was wrong;politicians-- just slimy little guys with slicked back hair who selfishly believeevery shaken hand could be a future ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/adamh2452/1150868/</link>
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			<title>You're not in my bed</title>
			<description>anymore.But you&amp;rsquo;re there when I sleep.&amp;nbsp;Last night, I ran around incessantlyand tore the propaganda downwhich you left hanging from myleft and right ventricles.&amp;nbsp;Your campaign must be over. The speechthat you delivered in my aorta was still bouncingaround throughoutthe hollows of my ri..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/adamh2452/1149353/</link>
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			<title>You borrowed my car with a wink and a smile</title>
			<description>One of many poems about an ex-girlfriend. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/adamh2452/1149083/</link>
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