Finely Honed Minimalism Will Be The End Of Us All

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Lucy texts me that she has a daughter now.

I don’t respond for days.

What’s there to say?

I tell her I’ve been in the mountains—
no service—
& that’s partially true.

I vision quested for an exit.

Did you know?

James Beard was afraid
America could never love
“a fat old queer”
but I can.

I do.

I would.

Again & again
& again &
pass me that blunt.

I’ve forgotten my name.

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