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1 s e L F - P o r t r a i t, J U L y Fresh water is to salt water as— fuck that, i grew up in the inner city. halal meat markets are to blades what we all are to blades: methodical and ordained. The first time i had a gun pulled on me was not the only time, but i still don’t believe in sleepwalking. Just once i want you to wake up on a bridge. Just once i want you to kick a door through its frame and watch it fall drunkenly into the other side. i told my sister yesterday Goddamn, I know it’s stupid, but I miss this neighborhood. she looked at the least lit edge of the skyline and said Yeah, that is stupid. But the difference between stupid and ignorant is in the last two digits of a ZiP code and i drink on both banks of the river. east is the kind of drunk you feel in your porch light. West is chasing your pit bull who is dragging large pieces of the porch on his chain, asphalt wrathing the wood to its core. Just once i want you to bite, to shred your knuckle in the weight of daylight, to know your body by the names it calls itself. ...

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