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by Cherise Bacalski

comes knocking at 2am, you let it in & still coming to terms

is not your thing. it’s not your chromosomal aberrations i admire, it’s your
dedication to the preening of others, living the lonelies of lovers lost, the losers,
those, the living, loving even though the thought

congratulates them on that that they never knew—

a man’s life is photogenically escaping death.