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71 Commentary on visiting your Grandfather’s Grave Often came the disgusting pearl of dream that I might unbury and fall upon the gaudy pickled almost-you, nothing now but gawking leather dummy with pictures in your blazer pocket, to air in the humid air that molds, so did I once want to see you again. But now on a green bench here with stupid lilacs in a plastic vase have I no idea, no thought that digging would do a thing, nor that the nameplate is more than brass beside an asphalt drive, nor what the lilacs mean. Above their July scent I think of my wife’s thigh, white. The brains of the living are gravel dry but our bodies, wet as ever. paul text i-84 -3.indd 71 7/20/10 3:17 PM ...

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