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age four MAG
when the pavement is hot,
the sun incandescent and furious,
I'm ravaged by these reminders
of me in tidy, square neighborhoods
neatly trimmed in shrubs and waxy red tulips.
on the other side of the alley, though,
was real life and the deadness
that hung over our small street
with a grayish yellow breath.
brokedown buildings brokedown jobs brokedown people
broke it down nice and quick.
I didn't wrap myself around the circumstance,
their gray faces and
cigarette after cigarette.
I see the people a product of a place
turned paper.
Grandpa had to leave the state just to shoot himself,
'cause you can't kill yourself in a place
that says you're already dead.
Daddy swallowed lifelessness
and keeps it behind his ribcage now.
I turn on my heel haughtily,
giving it
the finger.
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