Robert Frost (1874 - 1963)
Anticipating my court date to challenge the citation awarded to me by the Immigration and Customs Enforcement police, I could not help but notice their horse and carriage stationed a five minute walk from where I live. The Pony Express held camp in the valet parking lot in front of the Galleria's Saks Fifth Avenue on Wednesday this week. I kept my distance from the locus of Department of Homeland Security trucks on the opposite side of the street under the shade of oak trees. As the sun's heat penetrated my skin standing on the thouroughfare leaving my pores to gush my frustration to the surface, it became apparent to my eyes that I was in the compass of some bubbling undercurrent. After waiting to catch a glimpse of the foreign visitors, I proceeded back home to find the summons for the ticket waiting for me back home.
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