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no room for hipsters

the occupation of Ashley and Levon

Pail

I had a conversation

On the excess of a breath

Then when I’d said enough

Picked up my bucket and left

Beginning in one shoulder

And then opposite oblique

With jerky knees I stammered

And parity of teeth

I can slice air can’t I?

Range condensed to reciprocation

Feet balls conscience of impression

Marking time with knuckles angsting

If a femur could grab down and plant

I could be relieved

Or with shoulders coupled by the sky

Then my stance would straighten

Flat footed lips

My own symmetry betrayed

To carry these excesses

I won’t say that again.

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