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It is ten days before the 2024 election.So I am right now alternating between biting my cuticles and sipping a gin martini.I'm reading Virginia Woolf out in the backyard.The neighbor is having roof shingles replaced.Banging. Banging...BANGING!It is 3:34…
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I won't read between the lineswhen the linesI'm daily given are half truthsI will take what you sayas truewhenthe truthsuits me as well as it suits youI heard you yelling at him, you knowyou didn't know I was home yet but I wasI was grabbing a package off the…
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The dry leaves, brittle in the breeze, scuttle across the yard like forgotten stories, curling and spinning in the wind, their crisp edges brushing against the earth as if they’re trying to remember something they once knew.
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They wear their bodies recklessly, these cempazuchitl, these flowers of the dead.
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I don't want to see her again. No more pain. This one has barely healed. It hurt too much on that grey day when she said no to my longing eyes. "Don't look so sad," they used to tell me. I'm taking a different road now, I make a detour, I avoid her shop and her silhouette…
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The coals lose their glow.Sun kisses the back of my neck goodbye.Someone plays Boys of Summer one more time.The cooler tips... The tides go out...
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Chicago was dark, the cheerless snow brightened nothing, blackened once scraped to the edges of parking lots, within frozen days the brutal cold petrified snow into ice for months, zinc skies from early November to the end of March deadened the eyes.
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