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Dawn Tefft

in the, you

 

 

in all sorts of bathtubs and doorways and kitchenettes for you

 

 

in the really long pause between the heat and the air balloon

 

 

in the repetition of certain cars through the streets was you

 

 

in the punk songs and the processed meats and the sea

 

 

in the unpolitical women whose names you breathed

 

 

in the Higgs bosons constantly flying around inside TVs

 

 

in the careening hours of the worshipper examining belief in you

 

 

in the long long and the ridiculously abbreviated

 

 

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

 

 

I was herding my thoughts through the rooms

 

 

you were sleeping between the trees

 

 

 

 

 

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