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in exactly the same way that stone
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Just swerving memories
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My toes are dictionaries.
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The great story weaves closer and closer, millions of
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I said I will love you more
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If I were the moon I would shrink into a sand grain
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ten thousand murex shells to make
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but falling into a liquid mirror
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So instead of getting to Heaven, at last —
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All weeds. I see it from the train, citybound, how the yuccas and chicory