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The awful night gets bluer

until you look up and

find a purple sign explaining

the intersection of girls and

math.  It’s day and feburary, you

know that it’s minsk, but you imagine

it’s chicago and that you’re mother in law

from atlanta is chasing you to the border.  She

transforms into a bull and meets you

above the serene and polished

wooded floor.  Her eyes become blue,

but you hold out your hand and

give her the gift of

vodka and flamenco, the pinnacles of

human love.

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