they always reminded me of home
blooming or wilting
on the sky or the crate
or that day
running through the prarie
gasoline can over her head
we are in the rattling grass
and the dirt
and her cigarette
that thought was a prodigy
went to a big name school
wrote its letters
glittering on the sun
But the world is nothing but hope:
a gas station attendant
dreams of oil wells;
autumn children,
their baseball gloves
hang off their palms;
fat as pears on the trees
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