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Purgatory

One hundred degrees
and the foothills of Azusa
continue to burn
as the first day of autumn
falls unnoticed
since the seasons fled L.A.
long ago.

And though night
and insomnia
drop down soon like a shroud,
the sky remains orange
as I pause with worn out shoes
and empty pockets to watch
the foothills of Azusa

continue to burn.

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