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But here it was, Friday afternoon with Deborah checking MySpace for interesting bulletins or messages before she made some weekend plans, finding a blog from Fred posted that same morning with two simple sentences.
"I know. I've known for a long time.
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In those years,
you and I were told to leap
for a world suffused with sound
and industry.
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“Let me in,” I begged.
“No. Get back stinky feet.”
“I washed them.”
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After my vasectomy, I got a T-shirt with a picture of an orange on it. It said "All Juice, No Seeds."
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“We know you’re in there, motherfucker. Step out, slowly, and we might keep you fit for an open casket funeral."
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I don't know, I could go on all day with these little niches he found in every person that made them at least a little interesting.
Everyone collects baseball cards.
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She didn’t think of herself as an undesirable, no, she didn’t, but did find herself cowering in face of the presumed judgment of those around her. They had more money, more clout, more everything.
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[SOME PEOPLE ARE BETTER THAN OTHERS.]
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Jojo dolls & basketballs
a mindflex & pick-up sticks
Parcheesi and—no, not Parcheesi
a supersoaker, a Care Bear
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Ivan was used to explosions, but this was high in the sky. He was on his back between tall sunflowers that grew infinitely in all directions. The blast made the flowers bow their heads. Bits of debris fell from the blue sky, some shiny, trailing fire or smoke. The boy…
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Caster had always imagined the Consensus as a big room, as big as the world, filled with white space and people with quantum wings, flitting about, creating information. There were tinted bubbles for people to share for privacy, and the lights never went
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not of time, but of all the clocks/
that tick along toward the end/
of all the possibilities.
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She allowed him to wash her hair. Touching it in a wet state, running his hands through it in a soapy state, wringing the water out when he was finished—he was ecstatic.
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A Nocturne, whose grey mana seeped out of it mouth, grabbed the roof of the building with its large claws. Using it as leverage, it stood itself up, hunched over, its long whale like head roared like a loud horn.
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Her back turned, she wanders off
searching for the way home
wringing her hands,
trying to think, but thoughts
evade her.
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He was choking on the fumes.
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unwrapping
the gauze from her wrists....
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They acquire him in a bar that is famous for its shipwrecks.
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What a beautiful day it was, what a wonderful day to lose one's mind. This is what you think going into it, that it is all a wonderful dream come true, and sure I'll have my hands full, but at the end of the day it will be worth something. If I hang in long enough,…
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I wander toward the midnight dock
a neon sine curve stabs my eyes
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The Rapture comes and goes unannounced in carbonated soda bubbles spicing the air.
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I become the accumulation/
of appetites
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Everybody called her The Crier because from time to time we would hear her crying.
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It turned out Eel’s brain corrects for imbalance, and he can only feel danger for a moment or two.
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One of the drunk men, a dear friend, hunk, as he updated me, now living the existence of a poet, called from San Francisco to say he would take the plane to Minneapolis, do it, then leave me to raise the baby.
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Forty years later he was still her Romeo, she his Juliet.
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"His middle name is Valentine, and when asked about it, he isn't sure why."
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