ant5

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midnight

looking for the chicken

we think it’s Jupiter

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when it comes

to the jays

the cats are lazy

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we leave

our forks on

the new blue plates

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spring wanes

the clear edges

of the green hills

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behind the dumpster

a wet blanket

steaming in the sun

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about every

ten minutes

your body comes back

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the dove

said the same thing

a thousand years ago

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you must walk

on the rain wet petals

like it was ice

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