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  • Dirt smells after a hot afternoon rain while refreshing senses gone arid a Rodin leg

    folds under a calico dress, no one can see burrowing toes. Salty drops form a cool

    patina irrigate my humid neck and chest. With increasing speed the rocking chair

    moves itself on the creaky porch as the sun eclipses, slowly forgiving, the clay

    quickly dries. The darkening distant earth gives birth to a twisting, swirling drunk

    that emerges from the dustbowl, frantically approaching like a guilty madman

    running from a mob of vigilantes. Freedom's pursuit is dirty and entangled with

    detached buttons and dangling threads, F-graded homework, candy wrappers,

    scribbled hearts with piercing arrows crumpled and tossed from school bus

    windows. I welcome the stranger into my house.
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