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About
writer; not a lover not a fighter.
write now
blurs in the night,
like telephone poles
i chased down the road.
past rock of ages,
a tombstone dealer
that lived in the fields.
kicking up dust through
slats of light and dark.
it will be hot
and summer tonight.
i will wear my white dress:
we will eat churrasqueira
in the chiaroscuro.
we will know what it's like
to grow up so slow.