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20 To Montevideo for L. We were double-sided tape, she writes, all adhesive. We were the hollow space a shell curls around; the wrapping that is the gift. Like children boiling tea from pine needles, it wasn’t a thirst that moved us. You chased a soccer ball around the world while I chased the world. We were like your speech—blunt and broken, only as beautiful as it was meaningless. No way to say it more simply than that. As her new husband stirs upstairs she folds the letter. Tongues the glue. ...

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