It's always so smoky where I live
Nothing seems to want to fly in by...
One morning, I saw a truck, and some guys binding and gutting a deer.
And the generosity of sharing--no
One was doing that.
They were, like,
Eat if you have. Enjoy if you can.
Love follows the trickle of love.
The dearth fits neatly in its own shadow.
If I wave away the fumes, with my hand, the smoke will unfold in its place--
A cleansed revision of the flawed first draft.
It's like a record of everything I anticipate for myself.
Tell me your name again.
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