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M Y M AT U R E S T Y L E I light matches endlessly. Paris burns! The Eiffel Tower shoots blue gas! The lighter I find in my pocket— cold metal on a blue bruise— ignites the biggest fires. I get dogs and cats running, I get affirmation in black. My mother’s heart keeps on burning. Mark the left ventricle her favorite, its system so silent and skilled, its blue the blues of exchange. 64 ...

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