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aunt
nobody
postulated, carrying her stacked glasses
frozen-motion lenses and mirrors flick-flipping
towards the ceiling, postulated!
that the thirst for what one ‘could have played’
is but a hustled drip. She smacks
the dream that one should pay up to what neatness tells.
we know she
once
Her heel, snagged on the step,
clomps away to the beat of:
lost for the rest of the night.
She’s not inspecting faces
anymore; she’s full-tilt focused
Heels superfluous, she walks
from the buttocks: one at a time.
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