ant5

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early evening

the chickens have

made it to the peach tree

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they’re fragments

not puzzle

pieces

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shaved head

you feel

the flies

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in a gust of wind

translucent

green worms

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thunderheads

suggest a mountain

range below

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ragged sunflower

taller than

most things

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the long

slow shadows

of the laurel

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a sheen

to the flat

dried grasses

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pet store

everyone’s

in heat

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the passing

train stops for

the passing train

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