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38 tOUCh It ends at airport pizza. Full stop with terrorists’ threats some ornamentalist discussion rooted in nevermind my emphatic if we blow up, we blow up. This small day, your power is to choose the last photograph, cherry cola or peanuts, your angle of recline. I chose Vienna. Those pews. Candle wax sloped with hush and strangers in from four corners of gray rain. The frankincense and pine we slid into, sitting, rising, kneeling Catholic, our necks bent the path Jesus stumbled toward saints. Your breathing beside me, wet jeans thighs almost close enough to touch. ...

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