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55 thE LASt vOiCE comes clearly in the footsteps of the one-legged man who lives above me, who uses 5 a.m. as an application for a new life, one he fills out in Morse code, a life where two legs feel the solidity of sidewalks, where the hardness of the earth’s layers— rock and rock and rock— offers comfort. he’ll never get it. i take my two worn shoes, throw them one at a time at the ceiling, go back to my dreamy dreams. ...

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