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My Airplane

 smoke

situates in
black common
mode of
learning to
forget
regional asides 

singers
explain that
they have died
many times
without
missing a
beat 

the search party
reminds us
that caldrons
exist in
volcanoes
and chances are
good either
way

steps are taken
in good English
in the space
of thin dimes
and caged
lightning 

land just
becomes
a matter
of returning
and space
calls for
being just
being 

no one minds
the shock of
numbers
because one
can always
tango heat
in time
on any
smudge of
map


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