wikipedia poem, no. 13

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i was there beside you, warm
but it wasn’t enough, something warm
pulling apart my skin
there, they fell
like paint   peeling off store-bought canvas
they fell
we fell
and now they stand, broken—bottled—in opposition to something fallen and warm
for themselves, only, for
what else is there but life? a hat, cracking concrete, drinking the fountain of
these fonts, so righteous, standing back to back like crimefighters
guns drawn, guns drawn, 	
	guns drawn against the sunrise.

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