June 28, 2012
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Corduroy pockets and condensing Hershey bars
They weren’t anything to realize.
In fire cooled evenings, and humid dripping noons
They were there, right there, for us.
I would slap them on the cheek, dashed
And we flooded the house with our revenge
They let me ember off, and then
They’d hug us as if nothing happened.
Nothing said, we couldn’t speak their drawled tones
But they always understood mine.

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