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summer days were just a magazine, a magazine
a magazine….

cutting grass for gasoline, for gasoline
so i can see ya soon…

fall swooned
left me drunk in a field
dandelion wine for a year

and i packed up the dust
of all that i owned
handkerchief hung from a pole

i rolled out the day that the apples fell…

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This Empty Northern Hemisphere

Gregory Alan Isakovteksty