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Every day I wait on the driveway

33 Anne Street tattooed on my body

For a hairy man to shove papers

Into my stomach

Every Sunday at noon

The young girl comes

reaches into my stomach

To retrieve the papers

I look forward

To my time with her

But one Sunday

She didn’t come

I waited and waited

Sirens red and blue

Pretty colors

People quickly filled the lawn

Was it a party?

Water fell down people’s cheeks

Such magic

Yellow tape was strapped around the house

Around the lawn


Soon a giant brown bag emerged

With two men carrying it on other sides

Was she lying on it?

Such royalty!

I see red stains on it

Oh, painting disaster?

It was shipped onto a giant truck

I imagine to a Strawberry field

Water, screaming, yelling

Would you people calm down?

I’m not sure where she is

But I hope she comes next Sunday

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