THE ELUSIVE PRESENT
by Joanna Gilman Hyde
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:36pm
If only I could run away
from My Past
& trip headlong into My Future —
but Where would that put Me?
Where then is My Present?
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Joanna Gilman Hyde 
Hopefully you’d end up at the beginning of this poem. Then you could finally write it, instead of pretending to. Clever you. By half.
is it wrapped
and under
the tree?
God, Kris.
or Santa, Joanna.