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140 TRIBAL TAG The peppery smell of eucalyptus burning in the jungle says you’re coming up on people like sweat says people or pee does the specie name in this info clear in the smell as in the subway tunnels of New York or its alleys, startles you with its welcome reassurance after days away from civilization home if only to a different peoples’ woven huts the surprised stare and wave between strangers and the clear identifier of asking for water and it given then in return the shared strip from a piece of sugar cane to say we drink/ eat— a graffiti pretty much the same as our faces say so— we are you don’t kill us . Bodies and actions spray and paint the moment of contact passing in our hand on who it is who is playing and in what body’s borders what street of the old story we are on tagged with this latest label of appearance here the information of our making these adornments of touch or run woven to determine if this flesh is worn or eaten between us. We offer rice from our supplies They the spitted and fermented corn chicha communal drink and a roasted insect cone of larvae the delicacy we respect with our picking these to eat one by one from the cells The rice bagged in one of our socks he carries off between his legs— a penis the house opens to laughter ...

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