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35 Re-imagined evening with d. Raising the dead, this is the way things happen: rabbit, sleeve. This time, I say wake up,and she does. She sits up on the gurney, puts on her terry scuffs and pink windbreaker, and plucks a cigarette, like a coin, from behind my ear. Once before, I kissed her cold face at the hairline, breathed perfume I don’t recall her wearing, and waited: nothing.As if to prove nothing works without instructions. This time, I tell her to wake up, and when I offer her a light, she does. She cups her hand around the match flare and leans in, a bit of the old smoke and mirrors. ...

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