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wicker
baskets

filled

with
dryer lint,
wax fruit,
and
reese pieces

makes me think

of E.T.
and itchy grandmas.

i've finally decided
that
my own personal dining room centerpiece

is a rusty tuba

spilling out old blue shirts,
smoke,
and ridiculous,
unobtainable,
romantic situations

covered in hot coals,
music,
pills,

and gun powder.

keep on truckin' you dumb bastard.