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Falling and breaking your nose
murmur novacane
missing the area code.

Miranda's red hair, I had
wanted to be something but not
wealthy and frivolous.

Not Jimmy or Margaret, not an uptight
WASP cunt from Connecticut but
a hairstyle marching under Titled Arc

My problems: unfortunate emerald.
Glamour in the voyeuristic
earnest-bootstraps market.

Not a folk artist but adjacent to tragedy,
a gust-pushed body, raised mousse.

Thinking a(n other) woman is you,
my slacking peptides making wash.

I'm out of Andrenogen and generic can't
match the bovie heart

after lapsed years living protein free,
now correcting my drive
____or posture
________or attention.

A knot in my back carries a donation
of small electronics through the snow.

I'm not a body I'm a zone:
invited but sparingly requested
a name among links and names.

A single flip flop falling as I enter
over the gap. It isn't mine and
I don't have anything to say.