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St. Patrick's Day The white cockade sky encloses pocketfuls of a lit garden, I'm rapt away this spring in a hide-and-seek playground breathing of that Irish parade here in the earliest light appearing as any apparition or wish fulfillment for peace. A few convulsive kids their skin like crystal laces around the bandstand, cheerleaders glitter like ruddy stars with New Jerusalem emerald batons and go-go boys fresh from leather bars pass out green bagels. My bicycle wheels by a snatched rock sealed up with the snow. I take off with a son of thunder luckily over a clover field.
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