AUGUST 24, 1999 THE NIGHT BEFORE . . .
One hundred years from nowthe butterflies in my gut
Will have long ceased their flight.
Ten years from now I may look back
Through the overestimated Wisdom
These experiences are supposed to bring
And laugh out loud at my own Timidity.
Ten months from now I may release
The sigh heard ‘round the world
And Jones for the cycle to begin again.
But ten hours from now is what matters
Because it’s then that I’ll hold the fate
Of twenty-eight lives in my sweaty hands.
Close your eyes, Mr. Hagen
And pray,
For your future awaits . . .
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