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Plastic as memory,
black and white as childhood.
He shuts an eye, reaches back,
pinches the leather tents
pitched high in the hill’s curve.
He remembers farms, felt-tipped
on floorboards. Hears a sound
inside him, like lowing.
Plastic as memory,
black and white as childhood.
He shuts an eye, reaches back,
pinches the leather tents
pitched high in the hill’s curve.
He remembers farms, felt-tipped
on floorboards. Hears a sound
inside him, like lowing.