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footing, off guard it is always your word against authority. baby. who tipped your head into fluid headlock. positioned your weight against the thud of their chokehold. baby. rash of black river, tunneling up to sky. who gets to howl. and who gets to mouth you out. call you fowl. your heavy brow furled into crags over maestro waters, thersitical thunder, seems god always gets away with it. baby. blowback into ready fists. a rage you won’t ever get to swirl 14 herculean clouds against. empty skies. a fury full of lightning. you know the taser. memories of love come like this and linger electric. wet, conducting ground. 15 ...

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