ant5

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you’re the robot

she asks

about the cookie

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it’s a crow

you don’t

see

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you draw

the moon dust

things off

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before dawn

your finger

suddenly taps the pillow

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they inspect

their toad stools

chickens

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first freeze

the crane fly

crashes on the table

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blurry

in the mist

graffiti on the train

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amid whispers

an atlas of

hand placements

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everyone

seems to be talking

about bees

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it touches

distant hills

silver mist in the yard

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