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a coca plant to

make your illnesses go away, but

they don’t and

you stand with

the other tribal

fellows who have

taken their winnings and

formed a football team.  you want to run with them

and pretend that they are horses and

you are a bull, you are ink and they

are a law, written in the

book of the land.  they’ve grown tired of

you, but you’ll show them how

inordinate your love is.

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