ant5

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I practice

to be

your ghost

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where the branches

were ripples

in the wood

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unaccountable

noises

they pass

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we trim

our sails

without a boat

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ants drop

from the end

of the vine

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a strange

word for

an acorn

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bomb cyclone

relish

the gnat

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a catalog

with too much

underwear

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you didn’t

mention your

red umbrella

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everyone

seems to have

a cicada story

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