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		<title>socratesgray | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/socratesgray</link>
		<description>The original writings of author socratesgray</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776003291</lastBuildDate>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>What I had to do the day before yesterday</title>
			<description>my goodnessi just needed to get out of thehouse and see the sky unshielded by glassto feel sun on skinto introduce myself to the new neighbori had to get milk and gasand more coca-cola and&amp;nbsp;don't forget ice like last timeyou idiotget beer that is goodenoughto let me block out the man across the ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/956925/</link>
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			<title>number twelve</title>
			<description>ethanol makes the typing hardbut the soul drip likenumber eleven off the cornerof my desk--</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/956924/</link>
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			<title>Saved</title>
			<description>I might save&amp;nbsp;the world&amp;nbsp;by saving one man each day.&amp;nbsp;Less is nothing, but more,more is for fools and madmenand authors.But if the world will besaved (&quot;saved&quot;)by me --by all of us --I must first save myselffrom myself.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/956923/</link>
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			<title>The field of my summers</title>
			<description>	The blue of the sky made it seem so unreachable, like something that was hardly even there despite the fact that it was. It reminded me of a tiny stream of smoke that rises just after lighting a candle -- fleeting, and yet entirely bold. It was at once the epitome of an abyss and exactly the opposi..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/954702/</link>
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			<title>Sleepless</title>
			<description>Just a creakand a whisper of windand silence lingersfor longer than a fewshortseconds.A jingle in the corner,the dog stirs and sulksand shiversand sleeps again.The thick thump,thudof a heartbeatin his earsas his eyes eyenothing.Darkness like too-strongcoffee permeates beforephosphenes permutatewhile..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/804295/</link>
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			<title>From death, life.</title>
			<description>This is true, straight from my life, on October 5, 2011. The sections in italics are culled from my stream of consciousness, as best as I can remember it.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/804291/</link>
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			<title>Oxtail stew</title>
			<description>	He sat there in that chair, the one by the crackling fireplace, and ran his hands over his face. He didn't want to move, but that fire was so hot that he could feel his skin starting to turn red. A log popped and cast out an ember by his feet, and he jumped at the sound. James picked up the cast-ir..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/803645/</link>
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			<title>Ulterior motives</title>
			<description>This was written for a six-word story contest, with a statement hidden within. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/803210/</link>
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			<title>Leaks</title>
			<description>Drip, drip. Time runs outlike the worth of a recurring metaphor&amp;nbsp;in a dime-store novel.December 6, 2002. Things are coming to an end,I know it. I can't do this anymore.This is what misery must be like.Drip, drip. Sunlight streams through the cloudsand yet no warmth reaches this heart.Dangling pa..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/800072/</link>
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			<title>Tempered steel</title>
			<description>That unjust spike plunges into holy flesh,piercing what darkness lies within.Steel rends and crushes the heart still pounding,and abrogates all meaning anteceded.Such fiery acrimony cauterizes some deep wounds,but the phrases still burn, smoulder in his head.Cognizance fails him, sight turns to bloo..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/788282/</link>
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			<title>A billet doux</title>
			<description>A love letter for a loved one.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/788123/</link>
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			<title>How fortunate</title>
			<description>Crisp, sweet messenger,bitter, brutal truth within:&quot;You need to love more.&quot;</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/785483/</link>
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			<title>Summer's sweltering dream</title>
			<description>Soft, silken skin runs the length of her back,glistening in the soft sunlight streaming through the windowlike a glassy ocean as she lays on the bed.The smile crossing her cherubic face is sweet, sultry,but it means more in this paramount moment.&amp;nbsp;With her usual convivial flair she winks at me,a..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/784838/</link>
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			<title>Trying</title>
			<description>Didn't expect much.Pretty soon my coffee wascold and so was she.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/772533/</link>
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			<title>Lessons</title>
			<description>An old, old woman at church once told me,Jesus will take good care of you. He'llpatch you right up head to toe, good as gold.Bullsh-Nonsense, I say. (Jesus might be listening.)I couldn't tell her that, of course. Iwouldn't want to break her heart like she broke mine.The golden rule, I learned that a..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/772340/</link>
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			<title>The Dance</title>
			<description>From the edge of her rosy cheek,that shy smile crept in--pink lips painted red--as she turned her gaze downwards.Empty as her home and heart had been,she knew she no other choice.The eyes focused on her were burning,andhers met his and locked in.Cute, she admitted to herself alone.She rubbed her han..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/772324/</link>
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			<title>Free</title>
			<description>There's a Bird up in that there oak tree, and Sheain't got no worries. That old hot Sun just pouts.I'm stuck behind this glass, and it burns.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/770965/</link>
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			<title>Ice</title>
			<description>She's cool like sin on snow,the back of her hand a watery grey.Leathered square inches lie zippedtogether.&amp;nbsp;I don't know whether to cry or not.She would want neither.At the local pub I throw down&amp;nbsp;a 7Up and nothing. Bourbon chaser,&amp;nbsp;just for her. I could make the walkto our booth with my..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/770784/</link>
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			<title>gone</title>
			<description>it's been some time now.&amp;nbsp;months, years? i forget.i never did stop to imaginewhat you might be, how good it was.i can't rememberwhat you said then,but i know you were there.you were of the best i had hadyou might still be. you weresunon the carpet,&amp;nbsp;dancing, nimblejust waiting to burn me upc..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/socratesgray/770573/</link>
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