I, too,
wish to carry a bullet
for the ducks flying through snow.
I, too,
want to live under neon lights—
blue light still my closest friend.
I, too,
take cold showers
until my hands stop shaking,
snapping red like nerves.
I, too,
clasp my hands after killing a mosquito,
even if blood and genes mean nothing.
I, too,
walk through mist,
loving the snails that move slow like me.
I,...
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