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The End of the Line We plan in partial sleep a day of intense activityto arrive at a final bargain with the deaf grocer, to somehow halt a train; we plan our love's rejuvenation one last time. And then she dreams another life altogether. I've gone away. The petals of a red bud caught in a wind between Hannibal and Carthage, the day has disappeared. Like a little soap bubble the moon glides around our bed. We are two negroes lugubriously sprawled on a parched boardwalk. 19 ...

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