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73 Standing Up, Looking In This country is preparing a war, inking the insides of guns to print the right death, and I am on a hillside far away, anxious the wind will blow me face first into a tall yucca I’m smelling today. When I walk down by the highway, strangers wave at me and I wave at them when I drive past road crews, survey crews, the telephone repair. But the war will be popular again. There are strangers to be against and the irony is always missing. We even marry strangers. Here I stretch, I stand tall and stick my nose close to the sappy ooze of waxy white blossoms, purpled edges, the open smell. War has density and seriousness. I have just my balance and my tremendous desire to reach. ...

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