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Was You Born Here? “Cause you don’t talk like you was born here,” said my probable fourth cousin, at least an eighth. “Coarse-bred,” Yeats called Cockney Keats. What he’d think of me I know. I’m talking American Viscose, Magic City Mortgage Co. among my parentage. But marry that to old moonshiners who read Cicero. In nothing flat— in rounded mountains, knobs where where’s whirr, peaks of laurel burning into bloom— I start to speak, sound like a stranger everywhirr. The Cure taught me Camus and still the flatland bouncer asks, “You’re from somewhere, aren’t you?” 3 HadawayRevisedPages 8/15/06 3:09 PM Page 3 ...

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