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32 Mission District, San Francisco First invisible, then everywhere: wild parrots clattering from the alley, once somebody’s pets. How did it happen, how did their one room turn to rooftops, bougainvillea, the unsteady opera of the cars? A girl in a taxi pressed her hand to its window, fingers spread, a starfish against aquarium glass. My first day here I couldn’t believe the palm trees. There’s a singing I knew nothing about. ...

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