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a trade
yes i know i’m killing myself but nothing good comes withoutsacrifice, so now – a wine buzza cigarette pinched between my lipsas the blues fill my earsand the sun rests its hand on my chest.the wind down Overland whistles through the chambers of my heart, and this is the trade: life to escape death for just…
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more where that came from
yes, my Athens is my Athens and my LA is your Athens, how long before we get there and will they let us stay? look! my body trembles into poems! about Athens and death and the short dresses of brown women! smoke in the cafe and moonlight on the page. down the way ouzo pours…
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a diner on Coronado island
“mashed potato, you can do the twist!” and she doesn’t twist but she shakes her hips as she punches the register. i smile. my eyes land on a butterfly perched on the back of her neck. she turns and looks at me, smiles back. “ready to order?” “i think so,” i say, “could i get…