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4 Queue The line for immortality’s long, longer than the DMV’s, and you hear The same jokes about eternity. New people join every day, of Course, and it’s amazing to see the young hop on in such numbers— We always for unfathomable reasons believed the line would end with us. Up ahead the kindly and the brutal alike keep disappearing. And all along the line’s horizon you see men and women step away, Out of boredom or a fit of sense. The sun, a child born bronze in the grass. Night rolling in its fields of stars and planets. We sing, we wait. ...

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