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  Here I am with my mother, hanging under the molt 
of years, in a garden of umbrellas and rubber boots, 
together always in the vague perfume of her coat. 

  See how the fedoras along the shelf are the several 
skulls of my father, in this catacomb of my family. 

Added: 20 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 4 Sep 2026 1:45 AM | Viewed: 4682 times

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