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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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