The crumbles struggle to break the fast
and the no dance dream tremor screams the last of out sorrows.
Flutter sprinkle gut to fight the cold.
Stutter fits and borrowed sugar from our neighbors
who live in gray squares,
white boxes built to shore away their wealth.
They tell me to go around the back.
Someone might see the sea part and heavens.
What would they think of me standing there.
Pedigree pedagogy spree
hammer it home for me.
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