i confess: in economics class before falling asleep on my palm there is the sound of morning crickets from the window. in my half-awake infant stupor i daydreamed, with embarassing conviction, that it was the air coming out of your hamroll lungs from a long way away, but quiet and creaky through the rusty static electricity and swimming pool water evaporated from muddy october in the air.the wind blows everyone’s skin closer to their bones today. oh my dear summer skeleton, we meet again. 
let's be taken away to the twilight once more
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