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May Deaths Two were in their 70s, that’s not so old! One in her 30s, it had just stopped being cold and the birds and trees were stirring. Two I wished to know better, one I knew enough, he said Glad to meet you the 20 times we met, wouldn’t wear a hearing aid so his part in conversation was him talking waiting then talking more, there was no other part. But I liked his darkness, funny as those photos of prisoners in cellblocks wearing plush animal costumes. Big bunny in solitary. The youngest shocked us crashing a Cessna into tall pine trees then not meeting her classes the rest of the semester. I met her younger sister. How are you we said dumbly but undeadly. One came back with a stomachache from Italy, one’s throat stayed sore all year. Horrible to make a tally, so much to fear, maybe too much to bother with, funerals on the sides of hot hills, it seems the pall bearers will stumble, their polished shoes streaked with clay. A memorial, his new books on a table, ending with a Chopin nocturne, momentarily we’re floating like needles on water. 22 ...

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