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10 m i n n e s o t a : m a r c h a million years at sea, another million sunning on a stone, now we’re put up like jam, shut up like the insane. all winter long we’ve baked a flaky white. The air has a mood, our blankets are all gone sour. Love, if we could sweeten them on the line, palm the wrinkles out. slug-heavy, we’re clumsy as thumbs. our teeth fatten, the whites of our eyes have cracked. There’s a static under the skin, a castanet of bones. our breath rattles the teacups. ...

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