ant5

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they meet

at the spice rack

beetles

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a spot

in the house

the machines sound the same

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clouds

drive them

from the interior

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triage

the inputs

clear with stars

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your mother

now

a cookie

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true winter rose

large and alone

on its branch

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a patch

of bright stars

the road disappears

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where it loops

the blue ribbon

shines

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refracted through

clear push pins

Xmas lights

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old bookmark

a love note from

the one who hit you

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