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Poem	It's August and I have not Read a book in six months except something called The Retreat from Moscow by Caulaincourt Nevertheless, I am happy Riding in a car with my brother and drinking from a pint of Old Crow. We do not have any place in mind to go, we are just driving. If I closed my eyes for a minute I would be lost, yet I could gladly lie down and sleep forever beside this road My brother nudges me. Any minute now, something will happen.
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