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there’s an alien with a guitar

he is waiting at the edge of

the desert, where water comes and

goes, but never leaves.  “Have

you ever seen a homicide?”  “Have you

eber seena homicide?”  The night

is late and the assassins walk slowly

to the end of the wall, on the other side

of the world.  ‘are the china and the

united states headed for war?’  The shaman

doesn’t know any english,

any fine words, ryhmes, emotions.

The shaman walks across the lake in

the lake in the himalayas,

grabbing paragliders, skpping with

broken stones.

 

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