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Sorrow Brings Me Old Dog Bones My house is mobile and has lived on the same street for sixteen years. Sorrow brings me old dog bones as we peak in the cracked fence to swimming pools in weeds and thistle-flowers. I wish I could swim but not float like the ghost in the daisies. The glibbery-flibbery hiccup bird is watching from the wire and full moons and half moons and Jupiter smile with no teeth and I just wave as if to say hello.
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