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170 struggling We are going    the park. There are swings. There are rocks    a sand bed. The flowers rest the bed. The flowers rise. We are fatigued but invade them. There is a smell. It invades us. It hides us. Notice! there are flowers along the bed, tiny flower clusters. But we cannot move our legs. We cannot move our eyes. grow I fight and fight. I wake up. The oasis is now dark. I cannot hear anything. The wind is felt and the stars and the sand so that no one will be taken by pain. I sit next to the bushes, Hercules couldn’t move me, and sleep and dream. The sand, the stars are solid in this sleeping oasis, alone with the desert and the metaphysical cigarette. ...

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