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33 K ate G ale My New Wallet The new leather wallet he gave me for Mother’s Day holds two crisp one dollar bills rubbing faces to backs for warmth, for ecstasy. They don’t want to leave my wallet which feels like silk, an empty womb waiting to be fertilized. The dollars refuse to multiply. They hold clammy hands to a fire like two bums, but other bums don’t crowd near. Under an ugly sky, they huddle together. Why is it always just us? they say. ...

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