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46 In the Dream of Having Too Much I Have to Do I’m back in your city. You’re not in the dream tho other ghosts are, my mother trying to unpack in this house of dark baskets. My sister is difficult as ever. I start out for ballet early and like with you, time dissolves and I’ve a perfect excuse not to be going. You are that ballet class, a joy, a high, a challenge where I might as well be nude, what I can’t do exposed as Ronnie Selsman, pulling open his zipper on the steps of Mt Olympus, a lifetime ago when really I wanted to charm you, make you have to put your hand in your mouth to stop from yelping with longing when I danced near your blue sheets in sapphire anklets ...

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