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fiction

three out of four ain’t too bad

It was the result of a brokenness in his body.

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times long past

He would sit there, with his tight frown, his pent-up bowels, his shoulders narrow again like a boy’s, his paper-thin skin shaking and he’d wait.

spread like snow on a windy day

Would you beat Old Franky like a rented mule rather than just let Old Franky be Old Franky?

a thanksgiving of things

As a kid, I’d imagine green florets budding out from under the soft and torn fingernails...

bus to somewhere else

There is a symmetry in odd places.

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