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Jun. 1st, 2001

Standing in the kitchen
Silver, brown and blonde
Never understood that whole thing
Just now it's starting
We talk about music.
We talk about her husband
My brother
But more about the father
Mom mostly just listens
He's outside doing recon
And smoking cheap menthols
Great white hunter
Gossiping in the garage
Her eyes tear up
The perfection she needed
The disappointment she feared
Her determination
His ransacking of her room
her flight
Freedom took 20 years
But there's still bars over her eyes
I can sympathize
wanting to hug her
up until she says I had it easy
Shutting down
that's me
she ran
I stayed
46, 69, 77
Mom says "Yeah, well, we survived."
in tones more suited to death
And I even believe her
sometimes.

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maddening
A Non-Newtonian Fluid

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