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96 Full Moon Yvonne says the full moon makes people act different. She drives an ambulance, takes people to the hospital who are in shock, bleeding, or stricken by the glare of a moon so cruel it makes them fight the freezing air with their fists, throw themselves against her like Hefty bags filled to the brim, go mad when they see a yellow line painted crooked on the crosswalk. It’s the moon makes them, pulls them further down from the down they’re already at, into a place even the moon can’t penetrate. I’ve always loved the full moon, its romance, how it takes over the sky like a shining platter, guides me home through rough nights, 97 slides me into the safe darkness of sleep, not savage darkness the people Yvonne knows, the people who have to scrape their nuts selves away from the part that wants to live, who wear the moon like deranged hats, closing in on their crowded minds. The light of their moon floods them wIth distorted shrieks melting their eardrums: stay the fuck away . . . Yvonne says the full moon makes people act different, even when they’re already different enough. ...

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