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beggar; This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Today it was fourteen degrees
even though it felt like three,
and the wind was heavy enough
to blow me off of my candlestick
legs.

I was smashed under the snow
and like a grain of wheat I
crumbled after the free-fall,
choking on the fifteenth of
February and an 11:30 curfew.

I was an elastic band, snapping
over the edges and stinking of
burning rubber and suicidal
ricochet.

You are all I have, please do not
leave me.




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