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42 The Trouble with You Moss, Grass crackle in hand. Leaf, Root, Flower, Fruit, orders Garden. “The trouble with you,” she says— & I’m a ladder left leaning on a Tree. Leaf, Root, Flower, Fruit, orders Garden. Frost puts to slumber, sleep . . . & I’m a ladder left leaning on a Tree. Put on some Music & we’ll pretend— Frost puts to slumber, sleep . . . Snow Berry stars in an empty Wood. Put on some Music & we’ll pretend— Blood-stained box the Turkey rode in. Snow Berry stars in an empty Wood. I can’t look you in the eye, just how we are Blood-stained box the Turkey rode in. Nothing older or more terrible— I can’t look you in the eye, just how we are Last Leaves, yellow mobiles, smile, smile Nothing older or more terrible— Put on some Music & we’ll pretend— Last Leaves, yellow mobiles, smile, smile Moss & Grass crackle in hand. Put on some Music & we’ll pretend— “The trouble with you,” she says— ...

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