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You walk out of where

you had been sweating all night

and tell me that you haven’t slept

a moment.  I pull the moon up

and ride it over the sky, so that

you fall backwards and

into a pile of flowers and

feathers.  You tell me that I

have no faults, that if I lived amongst

the cockney, they would make a rhyme

about how I would be an awful bank.  we

stop speaking english altogether

and start talking about international solidarity.

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