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By Mia Bartschi

Hello,
and by hello,
I mean, where are you, and by
where are you,
I mean, it’s nearly midnight, as my limbs
have become blades of grass
fighting against a hurricane.

Hello,
and by hello,
I mean, where have you been, and
by that I mean,
the moment you fill
the backseat like another glass of
stumbling liquor,
I choose not to breathe.

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