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24 Lantern Bloom for the girls I mentored in Pomona Red bougainvillea, a string of paper lanterns caught fire on your fence, doesn’t end, pressed between the heavy pages of a book.A girl between fifteen and cutting off all of her hair tells me that to be an artist necessitates being happy. She wants to draw better than she does. East of L.A., smog covers like a single question, and mountains sit close by. How far does sad go? she asks. Looking too long can leave eyes all over the body, until we cry like peacocks, predicting a day of rain for the hanging vines. ...

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