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Thieves Like Us Things don’t always happen the way they happened, I’m sweeping wet-black leaves into the yard, the dirt they’re meant to become, my feet sink through its saturation (the visible sinks into every surface, a simple darkness in comparison): Rain overtakes the gutters, spills from the roof ’s slope, the birds get fed for free: We’re migratory boys again, having already felt the routine hungers, already been left unsatisfied: The season falls upon us like pine straw and rusted leaves, amateur gods dress up as trees, flaunting their gaudy colors, they wave their stark arms in the wind like puppets, painted to look real: You steal the sunlight, steal the summer, bring it to me in your two hands, in winter, when I need hands most, the parts of light that rescued me: 83 Shepherd PG:Layout 1 12/20/06 5:27 PM Page 83 Don’t stop counting the immortal days, we won’t stop counting: 84 Shepherd PG:Layout 1 12/20/06 5:27 PM Page 84 ...

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