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he watched the circles in his mind
ripples in yesterday’s water
where stones once were tossed

pebbles really,
yet enough to form concentric wrinkles
soothing over rough edges and drowning clowns

the circle died and glass-like waters
were still,
undisturbed as though he had not been there

he hadn’t

in his mind circles rolled onto circles
and the pale painted pony leapt
easily over his uncontested path

the music stopped
his eyes closed and no circles remained
ripples collapsed and pebbles dropped inside his quiet mind