Poetry from the Writer of Light for Sunday, August 27, 2006

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Sunday, August 27, 2006

THE AMISH PINBALL WIZARD

THE AMISH PINBALL WIZARD Game room in the turnpike plaza. The Amish farmer walks in, curious. He sees me flinch, hears me cuss under my breath as the silver ball disappears, watches me slip another quarter into the slot, waits to see what happens. A moment of frantic action, muscles tense as the... Sign in to see full entry.

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