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Does he lie there forever, where his rifle waits, giant...
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His white head hung out like a carpet bag and his crotch turned blue as a blood blister,...
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Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.
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It is panting; it is an odor with a face like the skin of a donkey. It laps my sores....
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Going down for the last time, the last breath lying, I grapple with eels like ropes—it's ether, it's queer...
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