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53 11. Homing Right you are, left it is— these pigeons going off again apropos of city souls adrift, on hard wing, choir-like, high of mind and lift— racing northeasterly with rooftop secrets as songlines and extremities, half-captive, half-fugitive, gliding against a smoke-stacked skyline. Are solemn gray days part of the calculation, this periscope scan, as adventures diminish to hoping at least one bird opts for a wrong turn and sprints free? ...

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