Efemia

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You are an unhappy thing, cursed with legs, every step carrying the love who left, the love you left, the job lost, the mountain of low, the mounting lack. But your legs grow tired of holding it, so you transfer it to your head. Then your head grows tired, so you delegate it to your shoulders. Then they are tired & you are tired & you don’t know what to do but replant it in your legs,
When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities
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