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Traveling By Phibby Venable My brothers took turns driving the u-hauls and strumming music in the back, where we sat on mattress frames, eating bologna sandwiches and watching the road through the narrow gap of door that lifted upwards with the sound of a scrub board rack, mother said lay low, it isn't legal to ride in the back When we stopped she would sing jazz, clear, blue, and say, this is the life my mother hated rules but she loved dancing and she took us everywhere she would say, let's go, and hungry men listened and breathed her air but she was warm and vague, couldn't stop anywhere, always undecided where to reside she would sigh and move quickly and again we would ride the u-hauls |
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Document last modified on: 01/06/2007