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Postcard: Between the Spokes of a Bicycle Tire

Greetings
from a dark clammy
gravity-defiant valley
the weather
is thick
& tastes like rubber
wish you
were not here
o haunted memories of dew
gluey
in my esophagus
foggy
in my nostrils
as you thump alongside
this dark fast planet spinning and
spinning and spinning,
yours,
--pebble



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