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- 86 Bitter Beginning What hell, to claw my way from bed at dawn, Snared in sheets, while a god-awful song murmurs From the squat, faux-walnut clock radio— A blunt wine ache, smug cats, a shuddered yawn, Nothing ever felt plush as these covers Seamed slantwise with morning’s sluggish warm glow, And so goddamned much to do before work: Drop the rental car off at the airport, Leave shirts at the cleaner’s, post late presents. Surely, a sour creeping regret will lurk Below the commerce of day, the desert Of daily discomforts and public events. For now, I burrow in the comforter, On a steep hill, white beneath rock and fir. ...

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