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Hostess
Mom asked
if I could bring her
a few things.
I said maybe.
“I just want
some Hostess fruit pies,” she said.
“Apple.
And berry.”
I heard the crackle
of her cigarette
in the...
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Midsized American City in Winter
Winter sunsets are stately affairs,
Not given to extravagance
Muted yellow, trampled dandelions
Pasted across a sky, steel-gray,
Smeared with greasy clouds,
The bare side of an old engine
Sterile...
