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53 Night Mind Awake I sleep curled and dreaming like a fetus on the brink of enlightenment and I wake hungry for ultimate answers the way I read books as a child but I’m left at dawn with a smoking gun and the mineral smell of a dream. It’s sometimes not that hard, and it’s sometimes a kick, to fill in the rest. All I have to do is rub and tickle the core symbols uncovered by Joseph or Jung or Freud or the Aborigines, and I’ve come up with a pretty good story. Awake at night, I’m stripped of defenses. Awake and stricken as few cars go by and the stars come and go untended, the shades drawn, my eyes closed, I can feel the changing light in my bones. Thinking of you at night differs from dreaming: The past is less clear. I remember why we married but I can’t remember when I began to love you. ...

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