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Speech of my lost twin In the first minute of my life we told the truth. In the second – woke, smoked a cigarette and returned to bed, thankful for gloomy evenings. Three, I apologized for the milk-stain on my blouse. Lifted from crib to basement – Tornado, my father had chosen me. I know I’m not worth saving, I wish I’d remembered that before. All he did was lift me from the bed. I said ‘okay’ a million times, do you remember – the house inhaled while we talked about trusted circles. Remember that everyone has to suck something from someone, someone to hold them like a bottle. Tricked out of direct communication by the whole conspiring world – day follows day, and in your storm-eye the alternative to the French elimination dance is monotony. The sequel, like some unusual comb we’ll find on Mars, drop-dead beautiful. Process is accretion – from the time we are small and accessibility is obscene – satin tights the color of streetlights. Midafternoon capitulations shout Who is this child! She’s an utterly different child! And even this is too fair. 71 ...

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