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from the November 2005 issue

“I peel potatoes, stroke you on the head, pick up a leaf”

I peel potatoes, stroke you on the head, pick up a leaf
off the ground, turn on the light, light a cigarette, grab
the doorknob, take out a tram ticket


don't be in such a rush, you're greying too fast


run run, as much is yours as stabs in the chest


For the next poem in this sequence, click here.

Read more from the November 2005 issue
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