by Betty Dobson
Tuesday, October 22, 2002
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I took my first breath in a hurry, deeply
Impatient to be born, anxious to get started,
Then measured time at my own slow pace.
My first taste of freedom became a bitter pill
Washed down by backseat beer. I ignored time
And held my breath during confrontations.
Time's a little faster now, demanding more yet
Giving less, and drawing on that first deep
Breath to feed the last, long, slow exhale.