ant5

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empty nest

we still lock

the bedroom door

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with your back turned

a strange bird

announces itself

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when you’re dead

the naughty pictures

tucked in books show up

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in the gray dusk

you feel every inch

of your clothes

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a number of

machines are on

when I get home

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the jay seems

to think

everything is blue

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May on the way out

the pavement

greedy for rain

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she rubs

my temple with

her cilantro stained thumb

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