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79 Chryss Yost Paradelle Against American Cars I’m working on the paradelle. I’m working on the paradelle. It’s crumpled in my car’s backseat. It’s crumpled in my car’s backseat. I’m crumpled in the backseat. A paradelle is working on my cars. The gracious slope on this side of the hood. The gracious slope on this side of the hood. Write like you’re not in Detroit anymore. Write like you’re not in Detroit anymore. In the gracious hood of Detroit, on this side, Write like you’re not anymore. Slope. The gears are grinding, pedal’s stuck. The gears are grinding, pedal’s stuck. It’s tough to drive this kind of poem. It’s tough to drive this kind of poem. Grinding to the drive. Tough pedals, gears. This poem is stuck. The petals stuck to the Detroit hood, drive gears working to write my poem. It’s kind of tough, in the slope of this gracious car’s backseat; this crumpled paradelle grinding on. It’s like I’m not on your side anymore. This page intentionally left blank. ...

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