From the crow's nest, a crow's nest myself,
carpet bunching up softening features,
the tilting head, lolling
bringing the road to eye line
cross hatching me,
various routes so I must find the jam of the world now,
a road for each shoulder,
I am alone with taxis
and we're are alone as we consider
by whose standards should I give up
answering the question of last year's waste.
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