ant5

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past the fire station

a fox running

in the street

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peach tree

it’s blossoms

restrained

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with the quarters

broken pills and pens

with no caps

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you forget

which side has

the smashed bug

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tiny droplets

where the rising sun

hits the pane

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mismatched daffodils

encroach upon

the garlic

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baked cherry

blossoms tickle

your nose

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you see

your abraded

edges on the floor

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fronds of clouds

dissipating in

the heat

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