Query if we're alive or dead. Check the credit union roofing and dial tone, night buoys, body's carbon copy. Pension signature of my body, your blood numbers station combusts in a house; a corner house. 737 dumped its fuel on us. Night ketosis blooms dead pilots of Everest and left behind a thimble. Phantom index finger taps your phone number again- I remember everything we bought. Laid down heart attacks in glued beige, rolled out lichen. Brushed...
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Poetry