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[86] N OT E F RO M A T R A I N So it doesn’t matter then, this slow delivery, if I am to love, to follow my heart. In the eyes of the world, I play the fool, obedient to the hilt. I dance with hurt to bring no further hurt. I kneel and stretch out my arms: Mary in Elizabeth’s court. Forgive me. I am slightly drunk. This is what I want: to celebrate the sun at work behind every beheading. To bow to its corollary, pulling into the station. ...

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