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  • I would cry if I could, but only if you don’t look, like the clouds

    hands warmed by the car seat as the radio reception murders a song, crackles with shrill refrain

    the door opens on a closed house, on a closed street, in an isolated neighborhood

    sideways glance to what is left and right and breathing

    a pregnant silence full of dimly lit sentences, too obscure, too vague, too empty
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