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12 I never saw your dying, but it came to where you felt it right in front of you. I’d rather give it any other name. Come hell or heaven, dying’s much the same— it’s always the last thing we’re left to do. I never saw your dying, but it came and did its hula dance, its candle flame. And if the Afterlife proves something new, I know you’ll work on jazzing up its name. Down here, in the long run, we pull up lame. The smoke of our own breath can’t see us through. I never saw your dying, but it came. Your cancerous father lived on borrowed fame— the hotel you swore no relation to. It’s too late now to try another name. I’d like to say it hasn’t been my aim to write you back to life on Earth. It’s true I never saw your dying, but it came in your last letter, signed with your good name. No More Mail from Baltimore for David Hilton ...

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