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Night Bath, Sagittarius The last line was about a woman’s memory: The dog’s clear bark out the pigskin valve. Swishing in your heart those seven years. Students, in their reasonable moments, hurt my feelings. Not like bawling in the hot tub, staring at my parents’ trees. I can’t stand being there. The blue light of their movie on the mountain. Flimsy eaves and troubles. What actually triggers the crying, what’s the cause – their list: greenery, Mary’s garage, 21st Century, string of multi-colored bulbs. They’re angry and wonder if I contribute something. Like inappropriately yelling “Bienfait!” at who’s disgusted with the backyard wedding. Or “Father Christmas!” to the memory of living room talent shows. Boyfriend with flame tattoos on his forearms and free cookies from the cat-lady. Insanity, as a treatable sadness – personally, I would cause as much as possible while you can. 77 ...

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