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Of all the mixed up boys
I’ve been, all the names
I’ve taken in this world
that has to happen, I don’t
know the name of this new
thing. This thing I’ve let settle
down throughout me,
which spreads itself enormously
like unfurling skeins
of creosote and becomes
me. Far off, the artillery
flashes, and I miss the boys
I’ve been, kissing at the girls
with long legs, and stupidly
unafraid of the darkening tides
surrounding and then within.
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