About the author
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+The body that surrounds him is his, but his insides are not.
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+He was born on a few separate occasions | +green traffic lights at night | +
There was the day of his conception a wintery affair saved for those involved |
+a TV in front of a dumpster | +
The day he wriggled forth from the dark tunnel of nothing his mother’s womb |
+surprise photo of you at Walgreen’s | +
The founding of his little city deep inside by the small builders alien as they were and still somehow intimately familiar |
+a pink dress in the alley behind your house | +
Like any city it had its ups and downs the fever of 1994 was especially devastating but they were a hardy folk not much given to flight |
+me buying a Reese’s peanut butter cup for a child [whose family couldn’t afford it] in front of me in line at Safeway |
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As all things must pass the little city began slowly to decay the old ones claimed the young had no respect for culture anymore |
+trees at night their skeletons revealed by a camera flash |
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They began to die off slowly more quickly than being born the end was coming closer |
+two earthworms on pavement after a rain | +
As the last breath was made the last accounts closed in the city |
+keys tacked to a sign in Buffalo Park | +
It was given over to other builders | +man flipping a four-wheeler and walking it off | +