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56 route 109 I travel all day with a window before me me a blushing bag the world a pretty din glass is the part I don’t see while all day apparent the sky to which I’m no closer from which I’m disbarred the stony sky blank and unmoved the air I breathe in was once Caesar’s to what do I owe this dim past to the glass I’m a peasant a fool to the sky I am some kind of riddance a driver behind a safe wheel w/lakes to the side a putative blue ...

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