| «O get him out of there!"What if it cost 25c to wake up in the morning?
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| A dollar, ten dollars?
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| I’d pay it all the way to the poor house. |
| It’s not made if it’s made in Roanoke
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| Night pulling up in front of the house like a bus. |
| It came at me with shears
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| Her sweater had faces, famous faces knitted all over it
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| The porch swing ticked off Central Daylight time
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| «How many hours do you think it’ll take me to smoke this cigarette?
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| «she said with a smile
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| The smell of fried food came drifting out one of the castle windows
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| «Lets go around back"I said «my brother buried some stuff back there»
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| We ducked down and walked through The black bushes
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| My shoe made a sucking sound in the turf
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| «He can afford anything"I said «he's got dogs that blow on trumpets.""Priests!
|
| «she cussed
|
| Thunder cracks over Ben Franklin’s shop
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| Who wrapped my dreams in a blanket and led them outside to the black book in
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| the yard?
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| «Hey what Indian tribe occupied Southern California? |
| They were a lucky bunch of
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| fellers!»
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| Sting Bible, More Sea Bible, Knur and Spell
|
| In moments downhill, towards sleep in the stillwater shop
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| Imagining places I was almost sure I’d never been and had taken to assuming
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| were the memories of my grandfather somehow deposited in my mind
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| They were there and gone, just before I could get my bearings, catch any names
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| or find out where the hotel was
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| Just a pile of glass shavings that could never be reassembled into the gone
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| order of buildings and the shade pouring off of them
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| «WATER!» |