ant5

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Boxing Day

in the still afternoon

one close frog

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now my book

smells like

goats

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the chickens

object when

I call them girls

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filled with bad ideas

I visit the goats

instead

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crumpled wrap

we see the lines

that guided the scissors

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Xmas wrap

my son cuts the tape

slowly with his knife

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Boxing Day

but we are

the servants

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ghosts

they show up

in fog as well

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we come

home to

fog

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